Thoughts: Through the Eyes of a Malfoy
by underscore
Summary: FINALLY FINISHED. As Lucius Malfoy, I demand you read and review this story. Meet the Slytherins, meet the Marauders those pesky brats , meet Lily. Meet me.
1. The Day I Met Her

**Chapter 1**  
  
I haven't always been the cruel beast people see me as today.  
  
All right, maybe I have.  
  
But everyone can change. And, at some point in my miserable life, I did change. Because I thought I was in love. Can you imagine it, me? In love? I know. I was surprised myself. Her name was Lily. But I'm going to have to give you a more detailed version to hold your attention, aren't I? Well then, the story begins.  
  
It was my seventh year at Hogwarts. I had established myself quite well as a rich, arrogant pureblood. After all, that was exactly what I was back then. Never had I thought that I would end up associating, with a mudbl- muggleborn, let alone fall in love with one.  
  
Now, let me continue. For some absurd reason, I had apparated to the station quite early. We are all familiar with Platform Nine and Three- Quarters, are we not? And, for you lot out there, let me clear this up: I was _not _excited to go to Hogwarts. I could have disapparated just as easily back to my far more comfortable mansion, but I didn't. Fate, coincidence, happenstance, call it what you wish.  
  
No one else was there yet, leaving me alone with my thoughts, just the way I liked. Oh, yes, another thing I would like to clear up: contrary to popular belief, I do enjoy being alone. Everyone seems to think that just because my two cohorts, Crabbe and Goyle, are forever trailing behind me, I need protection and therefore hate being alone. Quite the opposite, don't you think.  
  
You know, I really should stop these minor interruptions; I'll never get this story finished. Where was I? Ah, yes. The station. Alone. Well, I wasn't alone for long. I heard a clear, disturbingly happy voice say her goodbyes to her parents. You know the jumpy feeling you get when everything's quiet, and something disturbs that silence? Like a rock dropped into a clear pond. I was just as jumpy when I heard that voice, angelic though it was. I turned around.  
  
There, standing before me, was the most strikingly beautiful person I had ever seen. And I'd seen a lot. It took a while to recognize her, actually. It was Lily. Then, as was typical, my mind kicked in. Lily? That scrawny girl my fellow Slytherins, myself included, had called a scarecrow? How could someone change so much over so little time? I'd been acquainted with Her before. She was, to me, the 'Evans-girl' (when I didn't refer to her as the scarecrow, that is). Being the arrogant person I was then (and still am, by the way), I paid no attention to girls. Women were different, like butterflies. I often thought of girls as wretched little caterpillars that one had to put up with, just to see what they would metamorphose into later on. Well, Lily (no longer the 'Evans-girl'; she was more on the womanly side now—stress on the 'ly'), had changed. A lot.  
  
By then, my mind had gone into a flurry of activity. The first thing that popped in my head was 'why am I wasting my time thinking about that mudblood?' The second thing was 'no one will call her a scarecrow anymore, look at those curves'. Ahem. That, sad to say, was the mind of an eighteen year old boy. My calm and serenity were all but gone now. Let me tell you this once, I hate awkward silences. I could just sit there and look pathetic, in front of her of all people. I needed something to do.  
  
Obviously, the first thing that came to my attention was my luggage. That was horrible enough. But with my wand, it would be no problem. A few spells, and I'd be all done. That was the time I realized my wand was missing. It was at the bottom of my trunk. There was absolutely no chance I would allow myself to lose my cool façade in front of that girl by lugging that trunk about and into the train. Absolutely not. I'd open my trunk, and get my wand. Who cared if it was at the bottom? I could put things back just right.  
  
So, I opened my trunk, and dug that wretched wand out.

Putting the things back in was the hard part. Who knew I'd packed so many things? And who knew house elves had so much more skill than I had at packing? Sad to say, when the moment came to re-pack, my things wouldn't fit. Wonderful, I'd appeared even more stupid.

What was worse was I'd actually tried a couple of spells to get them in, but they wouldn't. There I was, trying not to embarrass myself when I ended up doing just that anyway.  
  
Lily was looking at me; I could feel it. I had a strange way of knowing when someone was looking at me. I turned around and glared right back at her, my steel-gray eyes challenging her emerald-green ones. And you know what she did? She smiled. How typically Gryffindor. I cast a rather Severus-tic one back at her. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to deter her--she walked over to me. "Do you need any help?"  
  
"No." I wasn't a little boy with a scraped knee; I could do this myself. She knelt down (totally oblivious to the dust settling on her pristine skirt) and started putting my textbooks in the trunk. "I said I didn't need any help." I could be quite the mule when I wanted to be. She shrugged and smiled at me again. It should have been illegal to look so beautiful.  
  
"You looked like you needed help. What you said--that doesn't matter, Lucius. Actions speak louder than words."


	2. A Short Conversation

Thanks so much to RedJasper and Isis for the reviews!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot, etc.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
She was actually able to put most of my things back in with space to spare, which surprised me. If only those house elves back home looked like that, I thought. Of course, the most tangible thing weighing down on me was the silence. It was all right to be in the silence alone, like I said, but with someone else, well, that was completely different.  
  
"There." The last robe was put in place, and she stood back up. I did, as well. Was she expecting me to say thank you? The words formed in my head; as most of you know already, I'm very good with words, and I can say anything at all without meaning it.  
  
There must have been something wrong with the messages my mind was sending to m mouth, because I ended up saying "You're almost as good as my house elf, Evans," in a very chilly manner. That, coupled with my already chilly gray eyes should have been enough to bother her. At least, I thought it would. She said nothing, shrugging instead, and walking back to where her trunk was placed. All right, I knew I could be an inconsiderate git sometimes, and obviously, this meeting let her know that too.  
  
On any other occasion, I would have ignored her. Most people were glad to serve the great Lucius Malfoy. But then, she didn't look like she fit into that category. An alien feeling sprang up inside me, and it took me a minute to identify it. Guilt?  
  
Lucius Malfoy did not feel guilt. But it was undeniable, and soon I saw myself walk towards her. Yes, I saw myself. I felt detached from my body somehow, like I was there, yet I wasn't. Hadn't today been confusing enough? I (or at least the person I thought was me) placed a hand on her shoulder, and she turned around. There wasn't even a hint of accusation of my ingratitude in her sparkling sea green eyes.  
  
"Yes?" Her voice. I was almost surprised to hear it. My voice, on the other hand, seemed to have taken a leave of absence. Like many other things, it seemed to enjoy abandoning me when I needed it most. There was a little more of that dreaded silence before I spoke up.  
  
"I'm sorry." You wouldn't know how long it took that second word to form on my lips; I wasn't accustomed to saying it, or even thinking it. "I can be quite inconsiderate at times. What I meant to say was . . . thank you."  
  
Oh, come off it. I didn't sound as pathetic as you think, really. What baffled me was that those simple words granted me a smile from her! Of course, I'd seen it earlier, but I was seeing it again, without my surprise to distract me. I never saw her wave her wand, but she must have done something, because the sun itself seemed to shine brighter.  
  
And something even worse happened. Damn those blasted reflex actions! I found myself smiling back at her. Even worse was this smile wasn't one of my evil smiles, made for the sole purpose of scaring someone. I was actually smiling just to be friendly! What was wrong with me? Thank goodness (or evilness, for that matter; what is a gvillain supposed to say?) I didn't blush right then and there at my mistake. Malfoys definitely did not blush.  
  
"It's okay." Another smile. (I didn't respond this time, but it took every fiber of my being not to) and she turned around, her back facing me yet again. Only then did I realize what she held in her hand; a book.  
  
"Is that a book?" Obviously. I gave myself a kick for being so pathetically stupid.  
  
"It's a muggle book, actually." Now what was I supposed to say? Bloody hell! How was I supposed to know conversations that didn't include death threats and glares were so hard to keep up? Lily must have been telepathic (whereas I was telepathetic), because she continued after another agonizing second of silence. "It's another one of those silly romance novels I like to read. What do you read?"  
  
I was tempted to tell her that I thought all books, save the ones that taught you about the dark arts, were silly and absolutely useless. I didn't, shockingly. "I like scary books. Thrillers." It wasn't entirely a lie; those Dark Arts books in the restricted section were scary, especially when read in the middle of the night.  
  
"People say scary books make scary people, but I don't find that statement correct in your case." She didn't find me scary? Even my fellow Slytherins, Crabbe and Goyle included, found me scary. But this Gryffindor fifth year did not?  
  
"That's nice to know." I decided I was possessed by some freakishly good spirit. At around that time, the station started to fill up, the noise of the carts and trunks crashing against one another replacing the solitude of five minutes ago. I had to know something before I left. "Lily, you're not going to . . ." I paused, unsure of how to finish this sentence.  
  
"I won't tell anyone about the trunk-incident. It's just between you and me." I mouthed a thank you (I didn't think I could stand saying those words again, good spirit possession or not) and walked away, to where my minions stood. At least there, I could be myself again.  
  
*************************** Please R/R! 


	3. Meet the Slytherins

Disclaimer: Do I have to write it again? I don't own anything but the plot. There.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
The 'gang' stood there by my trunk, each with a different expression on his face. Well, except Crabbe and Goyle. They always looked the same. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought those two were twins. Severus was looking acid, as usual, and Peter Parkinson just looked plain grumpy. That's right, Parkinson, not Pettigrew, that piece of slime. I actually felt rather sorry for Potter when one of his best friends ratted him out. I hate traitors.  
  
The atmosphere surrounding our merry little group (can't you taste the sarcasm?) seemed almost foreign to me. Too much Gryffindor Goodness from Lily, probably. Here, back in my natural habitat, I felt strange, like I didn't belong anymore. I decided to drown myself in typical Slytherin Snootiness, Sourness, and Sarcasm.  
  
"Anyone do anything interesting over summer?" I pretended to sound bored.  
  
"If you consider listening to your older sister whine over her love-life interesting, no, nothing interesting happened to me." Peter growled.  
  
"Invented 10 new potions, 8 of which are poisonous, 5 of which have no antidote. Oh, and mustn't forget those 15 hexes. All of which have no counter curse." Severus shrugged all this off, like it was nothing unusual. Come to think of it, it was nothing unusual for him; he was very good at potions and hexes. It was fairly shocking news to me when I found out I was the first in our little group to go over to the dark side. But then again, I was the only one really, who had the nerve to do it. Severus had more than enough skill, but I suppose he was lacking in his moral fiber. Or immoral fiber.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle just grunted; Crabbe mumbling about cooking lessons (Just the very thought of Crabbe in an apron revolted me, and so I closed off my ears after that first sentence), Goyle muttering almost incoherently about dragons in Bulgaria.  
  
I heard the conductor's whistle, and students started to file in the train. As was our custom, we waited until everyone was on board before going in. We already had a compartment reserved for us. Unofficially, of course, the teachers would never allow such reservations.  
  
We walked down the narrow hallway, trunks floating magically behind us. Seventh compartment to the left. Severus slid the door open. To my annoyance, we had, not one, not two, but six unwelcome guests in our compartment. The rest of the group (my group, that is) had already assumed dueling position. You notice I didn't include myself. Why should I? I wasn't really one to stand in the shadows and watch during a duel. But we were dealing with Fifth years here. If we were to have a little adult intervention, we would end up looking like bullies.  
  
Who were these unwelcome guests, you ask? The first ones I noticed was the group commonly known to everyone today as the Marauders. Back then, they were just Black, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew. They had also assumed the stance, wands out, ready to duel. My eyes grazed across the room, looking for the other two intruders. And, to my utter surprise, who was there but Lily. And her friend, Arabella Figg. But Lily was there, and she wasn't smiling. Instead, she was looking at me, one eyebrow raised, questioning, challenging. As mentioned earlier, it had been a bad day for me, with the trunk incident and all. Then, my voice had refused to function properly. And now, did my glare refuse to function as well?  
  
I could only stare at her. "Lily, I--" my voice wasn't very loud, but every single head in the room turned towards me. In fact, Lily's eyes widened a fraction, as if she was surprised herself that I would talk to her in public. I had to do something. My reputation was at stake. "I think you're in the wrong compartment." I turned around to stare at the four boys in the room, who, in turn, stared at me.  
  
"I didn't see any names here." Potter had spoken up, his dark eyes glittering with defiance.  
  
I waved my wand. Instantly, my name appeared, floating in the air above us so that all could see. "That's my name, isn't it?" Another flick of my wand, and the name disappeared. At the corner of my eye, I saw her make a sudden movement. I expected to see a wand, but I didn't. She had only stood up, as if to stop me. As if she could stop me, I thought, a little arrogantly. What did she think I was going to do? Avada Kedavra Potter into the next century? Another thought bloomed inside my head, this one more unsolicited than the first. Could Lily actually have feelings for Potter?  
  
********************* A/N: That was the third chapter in this quaint little fanfic of mine, sorry if it's a little shorter than the rest. And could I please have some more reviews to keep me going? Please? Reviews are the most inspirational thing in the world (sort of, anyway), and it's the best cure for writer's block, which I have throbbing in my head at the moment. *Puppy Dog Look* Please? With cherries on top? 


	4. Predictions, Premonitions, and Prophecie...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.  
  
A/N: I found out my italicized words weren't coming out, so I've just up asterisks on Both sides of the word that's supposed to be italicized. Does anyone know how to Italicize words, by the way? I have no idea!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
"Get out, if you know what's good for you." Severus sneered. They had finally come to their senses and put their wands away. This would be a purely verbal fight. And fight, we did.  
  
"I'm sorry, *Snape*, but the last time I checked, it was a free country." That *boy* had too much impudence to do him any good. I decided to bring him down a peg or two.  
  
"Absolutely right, Potter. Thus, feel *free* to leave." I tried to ignore that little knot of guilt pulsing in my head. I wasn't going to let a pretty face distract me from being, first and foremost, a Malfoy, and second, a Slytherin. To prove my point to myself, I gave them a menacing glare.  
  
Quite unfortunately, I was unable to stare them down, except Pettigrew. But then it would have been pitiable to take pleasure in that triumph, since he was only as tall as Arabella Figg (known to us Slytherins as 'the mouse- girl'). Potter and Lupin were just a little shorter than I was, and Black, at least two inches taller.  
  
They didn't cower (I wasn't really disappointed, seeing that only first and second years did that) but I watched with barely suppressed glee as they shifted their feet nervously. They were still boys, under all that manly bravado.  
  
Before anyone else could say anything, (and I *knew* Severus was bursting with insults, by the look on his face), A young woman walked in, peering at us in a birdlike manner.  
  
"Let's hope no one's fighting. I'm Minerva McGonagall, your new transfiguration teacher." If her robes had been black instead of emerald green, I would have thought she was just another student. Despite her youthful appearance, she sounded strict and entirely no-nonsense. A voice echoed down the hallway.  
  
"Minerva? Where are you?" Another woman entered in a dark blue cloak, wearing spectacles that made her eyes look very peculiar. Almost bug-like. She paused and looked around us dramatically. "Minerva," this was said very breathlessly, "I had a premonition---"  
  
"Of my back?" I heard a few snickers from both sides of the room. At least this McGonagall woman had a sense of humor, dry though it was.  
  
"No," Bug-lady looked rather annoyed at having been interrupted, "But the fates have informed me that---"  
  
"Let me introduce all of you to your new Divination professor, Sybill Trelawney." That was really no surprise, with her talk about 'the fates' and premonitions.  
  
"But you must listen to me, it's something very important and--" The train gave a jolt, and started slowly, gaining speed by the second. The two groups sat as far apart as possible, with the teachers in between. Crabbe and Goyle were already dozing off, and Severus had his Potions book out. Peter (Parkinson) was drawing something obscene on the windowsill, and I was left with nothing to do. Reading was out of the question, and so was sleeping. Who knew what those wretches were going to do while we were asleep?  
  
I watched the scenery pass by, trying to figure out where Hogwarts was, exactly. But how could I, when everything looked the same? Green hills rolled along, and the only change I noticed was in the clouds.  
  
Now, I just want all of you to know that I do *not* condone eavesdropping. I think it's the most repulsive way of spying. But I just happened to overhear the teachers' conversation (How could I not? The train *was* completely quiet, with the exception of Goyle's periodic snoring).  
  
"Sybill, ninety-eight percent of your predictions are certified twaddle. Why would this one be any different?" McGonagall was saying, as she dug out her quill and began to sharpen it.  
  
"Minerva! They are *not* twaddle! If they don't happen in this lifetime, then they're sure to happen in the next! The Fates don't lie!" What shocked me was that she actually looked like she believed what she was saying.  
  
"Honestly, Sybill, you confuse me. Talking about Greek and Roman mythology, and then, very suddenly, you *jump* to Hinduism, with all your talk about rebirth?" She shook her head. "Would you *trust* an old crone with *your* string of life? *I* wouldn't. Heaven forbid they should grow so old they cut the wrong string on account of their failing eyesight."  
  
"But I've had *several* premonitions, all related to the same thing!" Her tears of frustration were magnified through her amazingly thick eyeglasses. I agreed with McGonagall; predictions, and *fate* especially, were twaddle. I don't know *why* people actually listen to them, let alone believe them.  
  
"And what, pray tell, is this *thing* they're all associated with?" The Transfiguration teacher asked dryly, one eyebrow raised.  
  
"Three students." Both eyebrows were raised now, and everyone (except Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were still asleep) who I thought was to busy to listen, was, indeed, listening very closely. And here I had thought *I* was the only one bored enough to listen.  
  
"Students, Sybill? What about these students?" Trelawney was taking her time, now that she knew she had an audience listening.  
  
"It isn't made very clear, but the Fates have shown me that the survival of hope for our *entire* world rests upon them, and what they do. One *single* mistake, and all could be lost."  
  
********************* A/N: Please review! *commercial voice* This chapter was brought to you by reviews-reviews! Seriously, it took me a whole day to think up what to write in this chapter, so I hope you like it!  
  
I'd like to thank those who reviewed:  
  
Red Jasper- I absolutely *love* your story! Your Lucius sounds so mysterious and dark  
  
Fuschia- thank you so much for reviewing! I really appreciate it! I totally agree about the Lucius/Lily friction part, so I'll be adding some in the next chapter, hopefully.  
  
KittyKat589- Thank you thank you thank you! : ) 


	5. Into the Tunnel

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, I make NO money out of this, etc.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
I would have completely forgotten about Trelawney's prediction. After all, they flowed out of her even more often then potions and hexes flowed out of Severus. But-when She-- *died*, the Boy lived, and the Dark Lord disappeared, I realized that that particular prediction could have had something to do with me, Lily, and of course, Potter.  
  
I'll elaborate on that later. If memory serves me right, we stopped when Trelawney announced her odd little premonition.  
  
Sever people gasped. Even Crabbe and Goyle had woken up to listen. Or, more likely, Severus had hit them with a mild hex. They *did* look rather purple.  
  
"And did the Fates give you anything more specific about these students?" McGonagall looked like predictions and impending doom were nothing out of the ordinary.  
  
"The Fates aren't ordinarily very specific with things," at this, the other woman (A/N: McGonagall, that is) rolled her eyes, "but they were, strangely, about this. And unusually persistent. They have told me," She paused, possibly to check if all eyes were on her, "that the three students concerned are in this very compartment."  
  
More gasps. I caught a glimpse of Lily. She had turned absolutely white. Not just pale, but white. Her lips matched her skin, bloodless and ashen. I could see the dark circles around her eyes, not marring her beauty, but enhancing them; they seemed to give her more depth; more soul. Beauty in imperfection.  
  
This was strange. Very strange. She didn't strike me as someone who believed in fate, or the Fates, for that matter. I was disappointed. Frankly, I thought she'd have more sense than to let a little thing such as this scare the living daylights out of her.  
  
"Nonsense, Sybill. The seventh cabin to the left?"  
  
"It's not nonsense. They told me that *you* would be with them on the train. That's why it was absolutely imperative for me to find you, else I would have stayed in another compartment. I *do* go out of my way to avoid you, Minerva, as you *do* go out of your way to convince me my predictions are rubbish."  
  
The rest of the train ride was silent (the teachers were arguing soundlessly, and Severus muttered "Impranium Spell" and shook his head). I understood. The teachers were using a spell to stop anyone from eavesdropping. The jolly witch who sold snacks poked her head in and asked if anyone wanted anything, but no one did. Trelawney's prediction was enough to rid us all of our appetites well into the afternoon. The feast would not be avoided; as far as I knew, no one missed the Start of Class Feast.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like an entire decade, the train came to a halt. We all got up a little bit sluggishly. Sitting down for hours on end did *not* do wonders for blood circulation. All the trunks were magically levitated, and we filed out of the train.  
  
Professor Flitwick, the Potions teacher, was frantically jumping up and down on an upturned barrel, trying to draw our attention. The Head Boy, Niles Longbottom, calmed him down and flashed a beam of golden light in the air which immediately formed the words "Seventh Years Here". Golda Patil, Georgette Thomas, and Gayle Clearwater, a group we (the Slytherins, of course, who else?) had named The Three G's, for Giddy Gryffindor Girls, flocked towards the sign instantaneously, giggling and teasing. I could barely suppress my disgust.  
  
"What do you think we'll be doing this year?" Peter asked, unable to hold in his excitement. Hogwarts tradition called for different 'rides' to the castle every year. Rumors were going around about riding the giant squid that was supposed to be slumbering somewhere in the lake. I shrugged nonchalantly.  
  
"We'll get to know soon enough." No point in wasting excitement by getting excited five minutes before we would see what would happen.  
  
The seventh years were complete at last, and Flitwick (with a behemoth of an arrow floating eight feet above his head, so we could see him) led us to a tunnel.  
  
It was pitch black, and I could hear a few girls shriek, in delight, or fear. Probably those bloody Hufflepuffs again, or Gryffindors. Ravenclaws were known to be more graceful and refined. None, of course, could beat us, Slytherins. Why do you think the Snake was our house symbol? The Gryffindor Lion was strong, I suppose, but lions are known to be blundering and stupid. Ravens were smart and tactful, but weak. No need to get me started on the Badger. Snakes were graceful, cunning, and powerful. A single bite could slay the most powerful animal.  
  
Excuse me for my unsolicited digression, but I do so like to patronize my House.  
  
Back to the tunnel. It didn't remain pitch black for long. Soon, we found ourselves enveloped in light mist, with pearly white light guiding the way. Flitwick's arrow was useless to those of us at the back, and so we could only follow the people ahead of us. By then, most of us had realized that we were actually *beneath* the lake. More shrieks from those insufferable girls. Lily would never shriek, I thought without really thinking.  
  
After giving myself a mental 'crucio' for even *having* her in my head, looked around. The tunnels were made of unbreakable glass, foggy from the mist. I could see the outline of the legendary Giant Squid, becoming clearer as it neared our tunnel, until finally, one giant tentacle brushed against the glass. A figure that I could have sworn was human swam by. It must have been Gillyweed, but did Gillyweed give you a tail?  
  
The tunnel was getting darker and darker, a sign of the end. The end itself was quite spectacular; a sheen of dark green water that looked solid enough to be glass. Here, the entire seventh year population paused. At the back of the line, I had no idea what was happening. All I knew was that we were inching forward. Was the doorway really that absurdly small?  
  
When I reached the front, I understood. The green glassy substance was some sort of exit, and we were expected to walk through it. It was funny, how everyone seemed hesitant to go through it, because everyone *had* to barge through walls literally to get into Platform nine and three-quarters.  
  
It wasn't really scary, more on the odd-side instead, because it looked like you were. . . well, walking into yourself, and into a wet-but-not-wet substance. Soon, I found myself in a crowded room. I looked turned around, only to see that the 'Gateway' had closed.  
  
Professor Flitwick, with the aid of the 'Sonorous' Spell, was telling us all to go out of the door ('No pushing, please. No PUSHING!'), to the Great Hall.  
  
We were the last group to enter, and it was a strange sensation, to feel eyes watching your every move.  
  
Being who I was, however, I shrugged it off, smirked, and walked toward the Slytherin Table. I was in Hogwarts again, the *Unofficial* Head of my House. My previous incongruity was gone (or so I thought), and I was back: The Rich, The Handsome, The Wicked, Lucius Malfoy.  
  
*******************  
  
Thank you for all those who reviewed! (and even to that one who flamed)  
  
KittyKat589- thanks for reviewing again! *smiles wickedly* You know how Trelawney is! Fuschia- *smiles apologetically* I know about the beginning, it *is* a little confusing. Let me try to clear it up a bit: They were all in the compartment, probably glaring at each other. The wands disappeared (on the Slytherin side, first, because they saw Lucius put his wand away after that name- conjuring spell and they got the hint about being 'bullies') The Gryffindors, well, you know how honorable *they* can be, so they put their wands away too, because then it would have been an 'unfair fight'. The two groups then resorted to verbal slander. McGonagall suspected a fight, since they were all standing up, and her 'extra keen senses' must have picked up all that tension. And besides *wink wink* Lucius is too much of a gentleman to fight in front of women, especially Lily. blocking tomatoes- I have to admit, that 'flamer' thing discouraged me for a bit, but then I thought, 'Oh well, you can't please everyone'. I'm sorry if you found my fic 'boring' and 'typical', but you only read the first chapter, so what could you expect? I was just introducing the characters, and a bit of their personality, etc. I'll take that 'made-for-tv-narrative' as a compliment though *smile* because this little narrative of mine was, after all, only made for fanfiction. 


	6. Mischief in the Library

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot. I wish I did, though *wink*  
  
Chapter 6  
  
The next three weeks had passed by without incident. Classes went on, as usual, in their boringly simple ways. Sometimes, it took all my effort not to curse that stupid Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Garednon, into eternity, and teach the class something worthwhile. Even Goyle knew you could deflect the curse deflector he was teaching us by counter cursing it with a stronger one. Well, maybe not Goyle. But Severus knew, and he was two years below us, besides.  
  
It was late in the night, and even Severus, the late sleeper, was asleep, a roll of parchment lying on his chest. I took it (rather carelessly; he could sleep through an exceptionally loud earthquake), and read through. Not surprisingly, he'd made a new hex (quite cleverly named the Hang-nail Hex, which gave your enemy such a bad case of hang-nails, he would drop his wand), his twentieth since the beginning of the term.  
  
It was time to look for more dangerous hexes. I liked collected them and storing them in my mind. After all, who knew when they would be useful? I slipped on my invisibility cloak, and headed for the library.  
  
The dark, dim hallways were lit poorly by a few scattered torches. The harsh, pre-autumn wind made the lights flicker, casting jumpy shadows about me.  
  
I crept towards the library, trying to make as little sound as possible. After all, the invisibility cloak didn't stop me from making sounds, and I didn't want to wake up Pringle. Filch can be considered an absolute *angel* compared to Apollyon Pringle.  
  
The restricted section looked the same, although I noticed a few new books: A Thousand Deaths: Fatal Curses, Hexes, and Jinxes for Every Possible Occasion, Light a Bonfire Against the Dark Arts: Extreme Defense against the Darkest Arts, The Atrocious Acts of an Active Acromantula, and Muggle Studies: The Growing Mystery of Quantum Physics (there was a label on this one that said 'DANGEROUS: STRONG CONFUNDUS CHARM').  
  
The Thousand Deaths sounded promising. I took out an empty sheave of magical parchment and pressed it against a page. Instantly, a copy appeared. Around this time, I noticed that I wasn't the only one here.  
  
"What do you think we'll turn into, Sirius?" I looked around, only to see the floating heads of James Potter and Sirius Black. So. I wasn't the only one with an invisibility cloak. Fortunately, both of them had been as engrossed as I had been with my book, or else they would have already noticed a floating book and a piece of floating parchment.  
  
"Shh, keep your voice down. I could have sworn I heard footsteps. It might be Pringle." Both of them gave involuntary shudders.  
  
"So? What does the book say we'll turn into?" said Potter, in a low whisper.  
  
"Something about character--"  
  
"Character?"  
  
"Whatever that means---" I couldn't help myself. This was a perfect opportunity to stir up some mischief. I blew out their candle. It was dark, even with the moonlight shining through the windows.  
  
"James?"  
  
"What was that?" I could barely contain my laughter.  
  
"Wind, probably."  
  
Potter whispered "Illuminatum" and the candle lit up. Again, I blew the light out.  
  
"If it was wind. . . wouldn't we have felt it?"  
  
"Maybe it's Peeves."  
  
"I didn't know ghosts were invisible."  
  
"They could be. . . unless. . ." He looked around suspiciously and whispered something so low I couldn't even hear it.  
  
"James? Sirius?" This was another voice. Lily? I couldn't be-I turned around, and found myself face to face with her. Close enough to touch. I moved away immediately.  
  
I was behind her now, outside the restricted section, just beside the little gate that closed it off.  
  
"Remus sent me to see if anything was wrong--"  
  
"Your candle was out, and we could hear you arguing all the way from the other end of the library." Yet another voice said. This one sounded tired. I couldn't see it, but it must have been right beside me. I moved farther way.  
  
Was this another invisibility cloak? I'd thought they were rare artifacts. I shouldn't have wasted time thinking about that, because my question was answered moments later when the formless voice muttered "Hurry up, it's wearing off." An invisibility potion, no doubt.  
  
"We found the book. Did you find the charm you were looking for?" asked Black.  
  
"Yes, we did. Thanks to Lily over here. You should come with us more often."  
  
"I only came with you because I couldn't sleep. But why on earth would you like to learn the Findiri Charm anyway? Aside from being extremely complicated, it only has two known uses, you know. The first is medicinal, it binds broken bones together magically, and the second use is a modified personality binding spell for the Animagi."  
  
Potter coughed. "Remus is uh, having er-trouble with his--"  
  
"Back." Black finished. These people desperately needed to learn how to lie properly.  
  
"I'm sure he does." She was unconvinced. A three month old *baby* would have been unconvinced. I heard her gasp when the ghostly form of Lupin appeared out of thin air.  
  
"I told you it was wearing off. Let's go; Peter's waiting at the entrance." Those four were up to something. But what? I don't know why, but I decided to follow them. Stir up some more trouble, if possible. Pettigrew, almost identical to Lupin in his pearly whiteness, was snoring away at the entrance. He chortled and spluttered as he was nudged awake.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "Helter-skelter" Potter whispered upon reaching the entrance to their common room. The Fat Lady grunted in a very sleepy sort of way and swung open. I followed them in. The first Slytherin inside a Gryffindor common room. I resisted the urge to cackle evilly. After all, they still thought they were alone.  
  
"Remus," Potter said, as he whipped the cloak of himself and Black and sat down on a couch, "You almost scared us, you know, with the candle thing." Lupin looked mildly surprised.  
  
"What candle thing?"  
  
"In the Restricted Section, our candle kept snuffing out, by itself--"  
  
"James, I *came* with Lily *because* your light was off. . ."  
  
"Then who---"  
  
"Someone else. I was with Lily the whole time, and Peter. . . well. . ."He nodded towards the already sleeping form of Pettigrew, curled up on an armchair.  
  
"Fine, it was either the wind, or somebody invisible. Nothing to be frightened about, we're not *dead* or anything." Black interrupted. "You can argue about that all you like, but as for me, I'm going to sleep. We have Potions with the Slytherins first thing tomorrow, and I might *accidentally* connect my fist with Snapes abnormally large nose if I don't get a good night's sleep." Potter laughed and stood up.  
  
"That's not a very bad idea, you know." He said, as he woke Pettigrew up.  
  
"That would serve the ugly git right, trying to get us in trouble." One by one, they left the common room. Potter was the last to leave. Halfway to the dormitory, however, he turned around.  
  
"Going to sleep yet, Lily?" She was sitting, cross-legged on the floor, facing the fire place.  
  
"I'm not sleepy. Good night James."  
  
"Good night, Lily." He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more but thought better of it. After a moment, he turned around, and left.  
  
I watched her, her face warmed by the glow of the fire. But I knew any warmth she had was borrowed from the light, and that she was still as pale as ever. Almost sickly looking, like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in days. Sometimes, when I stole a few glances at her during breakfast, I'd be surprised at how much paler and thinner she'd gotten.  
  
Her dark, wavy red hair was streaked orange in some places, and almost brown in others. Quite suddenly, and still facing the fire, she said quietly, "I know you're here, Lucius. What do you want?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed!  
  
KittyKat589- Thanks so much! Your reviews always make me smile :) Are you a  
  
Sevy-lover too? ;) If you are, here's a secret: *whispers* he's going to come up in a later chapter ;) Addy- Whoohoo! *smiles* A new reader! I hope you keep reading (and reviewing!) 


	7. Odd Ramblings in the Middle of the Night

Disclaimer: Again, I own absolutely nothing but the plot.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Well, I must tell you, this was quite a surprise. Not an entirely pleasant one either. How had she known I was inside the room?  
  
I shrugged these unpleasant thoughts away and sat down beside her, leaning back on my elbows with my legs stretched out before me. I'd disposed of the cloak, by then. Her question still rang in my ears. What *did* I want? Why had I followed them, when I could have just as well walked back to my Common Room?  
  
"Nothing. Maybe the Gryffindor password. Helter-Skelter? And I'd thought Slytherins were the only ones stuck with idiotic passwords. " I said, as nonchalantly as I could. Now, it was my turn to ask questions. "How did you know it was me?"  
  
"Because I saw it." Her answer was short and simple. And, quite strange.  
  
"You saw me, you mean."  
  
"No, I saw *this*. I saw everything." She made a sweeping gesture at the whole room. I didn't understand. Even now, I do not understand the entirety of her viewings. That's what she used to call them. Used to. Before she--  
  
"You saw everything." I repeated. I didn't want to show how confused I was. And, I refused to ask her any more questions. I knew, somehow, that she would explain everything. She was that kind of person.  
  
"My dreams, Lucius. I saw it in my dreams. But I don't think they're dreams. They seem too real. I don't know." She put her head in her hands.  
  
"That's why you can't sleep. You don't want to." She nodded, not looking up.  
  
"I'm afraid of what I'm going to see." She resumed staring at the fire. She laughed mirthlessly. "I'm beginning to sound like Trelawney, believing in fate and all that. What about you, Lucius? Do *you* believe in fate?" My answer was immediate.  
  
"No." She looked at me, questioning, the same way she'd looked the other day in the compartment. I elaborated. "I believe we make our own fate. It's as simple as that. We don't walk along *The Path of Life* or anything. We make our own path." This time, she looked straight into my eyes. I don't like eye-to-eye contact unless I'm the one glaring and making people uncomfortable. And let me tell you, it took me a great deal of strength not to turn away.  
  
"But there are" she searched for the right word "deviations, abnormalities with everything, don't you think?"  
  
"Probably." I must have sounded a bit uncomfortable. What was her point?  
  
"Then you believe some people's *paths*, as you call it, are different." I shrugged. "Do you think they can be so different, so diverse, that some of them *already* have a path carved out for them?" I was *very* uncomfortable by now.  
  
"Maybe." Silence. Then I asked the question I'd been wanting to ask ever since we started this strange little conversation of ours. "Why are you telling me?" I *was* a Slytherin, a Gryffindor's sworn enemy, was I not?  
  
"The fates have informed me" she began, in a misty imitation of Trelawney, to lighten up the mood. We'd all gotten used to Trelawney and her predictions, especially after listening to them for three weeks. Despite myself, I laughed out loud. Soon, she joined in. Our laughing must have woken somebody up, because we heard a loud thump coming from the boy's dormitory, followed by what seemed to be footsteps. I looked at her.  
  
"Still sleepy?" I said mischievously. She shook her head. "Accio Silver Arrow!" I whispered. A moment later, my faithful broomstick flew in through one of the open windows. "How about a little tour around Hogwarts?"  
  
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A/N: I know this chapter is a little short, but then the previous chapter was unusually long, for me, anyway. Reviews, anyone? : ) 


	8. Among the Stars

Disclaimer: This will be my *last* disclaimer, as I've gotten tired of typing them all the time. Everything but the plot is property of Miss JK Rowling.  
  
Chapter 8  
  
Now, I doubt many of you are well informed about my exploits on the broom. You know all about the *great* James Potter, legendary chaser of the Brave, Daring, Gryffindors. But you know nothing about the Slytherins, and *their* greatness. After all, we've always been a people passionate, even obsessive, about anything that had to do with greatness and power.  
  
Naturally, as I was (then, at least) the Quidditch Captain *and* keeper of the Slytherin team, I have no qualms about saying I'm a good flier. Because I am. We'd won the Quidditch Cup 3 years in a row already, all thanks to me.  
  
Back to the story. The footsteps, which had sounded distant at first, were coming closer and closer now. "Are you coming?" I shouted, over the wind. I was already on my broomstick, right outside the window. She had half a moment of indecision, before she clambered up the windowsill and climbed on behind me.  
  
We flew, or, more accurately, zoomed, above the Forbidden Forest. She didn't scream, or shriek, even as I accelerated forward. This was actually quite a surprise. I'd taken many, many girls out for moonlit rides (however, unlike this one, those were well planned), and I hadn't expected her to be any different from the rest of them. Was this *the* Gryffindor Grit people spoke of? Probably not, though, since I'd taken more Gryffindor girls out than I could count. Well, it wasn't *my* fault I was the handsomest man in all of Hogwarts, and they just couldn't keep their hands off me.  
  
I stopped the broomstick, and turned around to catch a glimpse of her. There could have been a halo around her head, just then. Maybe there was, with the way the moonlight seemed to *settle* around her, instead of *fall upon* her, they way it would anybody else.  
  
The full weight of my thoughts came upon me. Why was I thinking about this filthy little mudblood? But-she didn't *look* filthy.  
  
When I think about it sometimes, I know she never did. Not then, and not now.  
  
She looked---  
  
"Beautiful."  
  
"What?" I said, afraid she'd read my mind. That was physically impossible, of course, even in the wizarding world. But being around her and thinking *nice* thoughts about her made me feel just a little bit jumpy.  
  
"The Forbidden Forest. It's beautiful, don't you think?" My cool façade was back on before I knew it. I'd gotten so used to this mask, I'd forget it was a mask in the first place.  
  
"I suppose it is. But it's beauty is nothing at all compared to what" I paused, "or *who* I'm looking at right now." I said, smoothly. The old Malfoy charm. They always fell for this one. She didn't swoon, or giggle, or kiss me. But she smiled. That was enough for me. Wait, what was I thinking? *Enough*? For *me*? Since *when* did Lucius Malfoy *need* anything?  
  
"You flatter me, Lucius."  
  
"Only with the truth." I said, and meant it, for some strange reason. But then, that was understandable, since she *was* beautiful. I still couldn't help but think that there was something wrong with me. As a rule, I was always nice when I was charming girls, but this *niceness* felt. . . more real. I coughed, in an attempt to shake off this horrifyingly *sweet* moment. "I should get you back to bed. Your Gryffindor friends might think I've kidnapped you. Now, where's the window to your room?"  
  
She pointed to the right of me, and, in doing so, her arm brushed against mine. It was all less than a second, really. But something *happened* to me. I didn't know what.  
  
I flew over to the ledge, and she climbed back through the window.  
  
"A goodnight kiss, perhaps?" I teased. She laughed and kissed me lightly on the cheek. Me, being. . . well, *me*, wanted much, much more than that. But then again, she was only a fifth year, and that wouldn't have been right (since *when* did I care about the rightness and wrongness of things?) I was quite disgusted with myself.  
  
"You can come in, if you like." I realized then that I'd been standing, my broom floating beside me, on the ledge outside the window for quite some time already. And, to top it all off, scowling like a child. "We can't make too much noise, though. Everyone else is asleep already."  
  
As fore mentioned, I had a very dirty little 18 year old mind. Did she *know* what she was inviting? Probably not, I thought, fairly disappointed. She was much too innocent to know what she was actually saying. She'd probably invited me because she felt sorry for me, poor, sulky Little Lucius, alone with the world.  
  
"Er, no, that's okay, I have to go already. I might drift off to sleep during Binns' goblin rebellion discussion tomorrow morning." Blast! I'd ruined my chance! The saner part of my mind asked *What chance? You want to watch her sleep?* For a moment, I wondered how she looked like asleep. I could almost see her there, curled up in bed, a foot peeking out of the blankets. Her hair would probably be a tangle of red, the curls spread around her head like a-- I shook that thought off, as I'd shaken off many other disturbing ones of her. I gave her a brief nod (something she returned with a smile; I felt like a prat when I turned around without smiling back), mounted my broom, and headed back to the Slytherin Dormitory.  
  
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A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, as I also hope you will REVIEW *hint hint*  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Krysly: Say hi to Kimmie for me too! And give her a huggie for me : ) I do have a couple of chapters already written, but I've still got to edit them, etc. And tell your friend to review if she ever does decide to read it! : )  
  
Addy: A second review! Thanks so much : ) Lucius is fun to write, since he's so evil in a funny, good way : ) If such a thing exists, anyway (*evil* in a *good* way?) 


	9. Her Blood My Blood

Chapter 9  
  
Since that night, I'd been avoiding her. She'd brought out strange, unwanted feelings in me. Sometimes, though, at breakfast, or dinner, I'd see her. She'd smile at me, and I'd smile back (although I made it a point to make it look more like a grimace; I didn't want to ruin my reputation as an evil bastard), like *that night* was our little secret.  
  
Then, something happened. It didn't ruin my reputation, really; I'd managed to lie my way out of it after a while, but it *did* make things more public. A lot more public.  
  
It was lunchtime, and I'd just come from my Care of Magical Creatures class. We'd been taking very boring notes about dragons in a room whose stuffiness rivaled that of the Divination classroom. That was why it was such a relief to be walking outside on the grass, towards the castle, with the breeze blowing around me.  
  
From the corner of my eye, I saw a group of Gryffindors; fifth years, as expected, walk out of the greenhouse. All of a sudden, they all started crowding around Lily, who was as pale as I'd ever seen her. I thought it strange that her four dimwitted bodyguards (namely Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew), were absent. A blonde haired Slytherin girl (Narcissa, remember her?) had left the greenhouse as well, followed by many others.  
  
"What's wrong with the mudblood?" My fists tightened involuntarily.  
  
"Take her to Madame Pomfrey, quick!" Someone was saying.  
  
"It's a thorn." A thorn? *Just* a thorn? "A Vesirose Thorn." Vesiroses were roses that had no thorns, none that you could see, anyway, but when you touched it, a thorn at least an inch long and half a centimeter in diameter appeared where you hand made contact with its stem. Sometimes, when it was especially windy, some of those microscopic thorns popped up in the worst places. I'd once seen a wizard with a thorn that had gone through his nose.  
  
"Why should anyone worry about that bloody Mudblood? Let the mudblood's blood flow. It's dirty." She (Narcissa) gave a mean laugh, and stood, watching, her arms crossed. Part of the Gryffindor crowd had moved a bit farther away (if there were any more Vesirose thorns floating around in the air somewhere, they didn't want to be near it), and I caught a glimpse of her. I knew now why she looked so pale; blood was flowing freely from her hand, and an unbelievably long thorn protruded from the center of her palm.  
  
I should have stayed away, and possibly checked up on her later, at the hospital wing. But I didn't. An odd emotion crept over me, a feeling of rage, and annoyance. How *dare* that blonde poodle call Lily a mudblood! It was true that I'd thought of her as that only a few short weeks ago, but thinking, and saying were two *very* different things! I walked up to them, and the crowd moved even further away. Scared of me, probably. I was a Slytherin, *and* a seventh year, at that.  
  
Figg was holding her, and trying to *drag* her at the same time, to the clinic (hadn't she ever heard of levitating? Or had she just lost her wand? I remembered then, of course, that some magical plants were *allergic* to some simple spells, and would spontaneously combust. So as a precaution, students were asked *not* to bring wands to the greenhouse at times). The noble friend. I thought sarcastically. What had happened to the *rest* of those *noble* Gryffindors who stood there, cowering? She (Figg, who else?) glared at me when she saw me.  
  
"Get out of the way, Malfoy."  
  
"She needs help." I said, and stood there, rather stupidly.  
  
"And she'll get it. Madame Pomfrey--" I didn't listen. I pushed her aside, and knelt down beside Lily, who was on the grass. I muttered a spell, and the thorn was drawn out slowly, to reveal the gaping wound on her palm. Then I paused, unsure of what to do next. I wasn't used to *healing* wounds, I was used to *making* them.  
  
"Honestly, I don't even know *why* he's helping that mudblood--" Something broke in me, just then. Maybe the heat from that room had addled my brains, or maybe I was just tired of hearing people insult her. I don't know.  
  
"STOP CALLING HER A MUDBLOOD!" I roared, to nobody in particular. I couldn't have been thinking straight, because the next thing I knew, I had taken the long, nearly two inch thorn, and cut *my* hand with it. I grabbed Lily's injured hand and held it with my own, our blood mingling together as it flowed down onto the grass.  
  
"THERE! HER BLOOD, MY BLOOD!" Breathing heavily, I added, in a lower, menacing voice, "Call her a mudblood, and you call *me* a mudblood. If *anyone* calls her a mudblood again. . ." I trailed off. Threats were always better left unsaid; it gave those who heard it more freedom to imagine the horrors of what could happen.  
  
More calmly, I ripped a piece of cloth off my robe and wrapped it tightly around her hand. Severus stepped forward, and handed me a vial. "To stop the bleeding," he said quietly. It was probably meant for me (Slytherins very rarely gave help freely to anyone outside our own house) but I gave it to her anyway. For a moment, I almost thought he nodded , before he gave me another one exactly like the first. I hadn't known he was such a boy scout. I swallowed it, enjoying the strange, burning sensation go down my throat. When I looked down my hand, the bleeding had already stopped, although the gash was still there.  
  
Lily refused to see Madame Pomfrey. She wanted the wound to heal 'the normal way'. I don't know why, but I did too.  
  
I still have the scar. It suppose it was rather stupid of me, but I wanted it. To remember her by, maybe? But I hadn't known she was going to . . . *leave us* so soon. Maybe I was *meant* to have that scar. Maybe I *did* have my path carved out ahead of me, without me knowing it. And maybe that's just one too many maybes.  
  
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A/N: I think it's rather funny, how Lucius practically demands to control his own future ;)  
  
Neni Potter-Thanks for the reviews! Yes, Lucius can be a little stupid sometimes ;) he's in that transition stage, to becoming the Lucius we see now, and so he's still got a bit of good. I'm glad you liked the story! : ) 


	10. Rumors, Rumors, Rumors

Chapter 10  
  
After that, whispers and rumors began to circulate. Lily was, supposedly, pregnant with a child that *I* had fathered, which was again *supposed* to explain for her paleness and bad health. Another rumor claimed that *I* was in *love* with Lily (have you *ever* heard anything more preposterous?), and had decided to turn from my evil, blasphemously Slytherin-ways.  
  
Honestly. You'd think Hogwarts students would have better imaginations. My imagination, on the other hand, was working perfectly. I made up one silly lie about a dare and Confundus Charm, and all those whispers stopped. Gullible little fools.  
  
I thought I'd managed to convince everyone that there was absolutely *nothing* between me and Lily. Yes. Well. Maybe *not* everyone.  
  
Severus kept giving me strange looks whenever my gaze just *happened* to drift towards the Gryffindor table (which, I might add, was behind me). Since then, I'd made it a habit to move my goblet to the left, away from him. He *was* rather good at brewing Veritaserum.  
  
It was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that detestable professor was droning on again about Aurors. Frank Longbottom (Niles Longbottom's twin brother) was listening intently. So intently, in fact, that he leaned too far ahead and fell down face first on the floor. The entire class laughed. Even Longbottom joined in. I rolled my eyes. Was I surrounded by fools? Anyone else would have thought that as a blessing, but *I* thought it was an insult to my intelligence.  
  
Sometimes, no, make that *every* time we had a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, I just wanted to strangle that professor. He had this annoying habit of rubbing his arms, and I *did* get easily annoyed by the smallest things. I still do.  
  
Those Giggly Gryffindor Girls were gossiping so loudly, I wondered why they weren't given detention. Even I, who sat as far as humanly possible from them, could hear what they were talking about. I was debating in my head what they did more, giggle, or gossip. If they gossiped more, then I would start calling them the Gossipy Gryffindor Girls. So many choices--  
  
"And she was all pale and white, and Bella had to wake her up--"  
  
"What happened next?"  
  
"Oh do be quiet, I was just about to say--"  
  
"All right, all right..."  
  
"See, look, you've done it again. Now were was I?"  
  
"Bella woke her up. . ."  
  
"She started to shake, and you know how Lily never cries, even that time we had all those heart to heart talks and confessions? Well, she did last night. She said--"  
  
"What did she say?"  
"Will you *stop* interrupting? She said--"  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'll stop--" Golda looked vaguely hurt.  
  
"She said she saw someone die." Gayle, the narrator of this strange tale, had tried to make this ending sound ominous. It didn't have the desired effect.  
  
"That's it?" Golda and Georgette chimed in flatly.  
  
"What? What do you mean, 'That's it'?"  
  
"It's just a dream."  
  
I didn't bother to listen to the rest of their conversation. No wonder Lily hadn't been able to sleep that night. Who wanted to dream of death? It was worse than having a miniature Trelawney buzzing around in your head. But it was only a dream, of course. Fate did *not* exist. We carve our own paths. I repeated it in my head throughout the lesson, like a mantra. Strangest thing was, that didn't make a difference at all. I didn't believe it anymore.  
  
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A/N: Our dear Mr. Malfoy has now decided to keep a. *cough* closer watch on me.  
  
*"ouch!"*  
  
Okay, that was him. Yes, poking my back with his wand. Honestly you'd think he'd take care of the person writing his bloody life story, but noo, he -  
  
*"ouch!"*  
  
*wrestles for the keyboard*  
  
*"give it back!"*  
  
This is Lucius Malfoy speaking. Filthy little muggle contraption this is. A Contuter? Muggles think up the worst names.  
  
*"COMPUTER, Lucius, computer"* Yes, whatever. A computer. Now, to you readers, Review now, or I'll curse your families into oblivion and ----  
  
*"WHAT??! Lucius, give me that--"* It's me again, the AUTHOR, *"no Lucius, not Auror, AUTHOR, don't worry"* Excuse him for threatening you all like that, but he *has* gone rather violent. Just ignore him *experiences another poke from the much hated wand* Just review and ---  
  
*"Ouch!!"* review please, or else he---  
  
*"Ouch! Quit it NOW!"* Bwahahaha. It is I, Lucius Malfoy again. Review!!! Or else.. *evil cackle*  
  
Neni Potter-You're all right, for a Potter *is smacked with modem* I'm back. Me, the author : )Thanks for reviewing! I didn't really get it from the Practical Magic movie, but I was watching *another* one of Sandra's movies, The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, and they did the same thing, and (tons of 'ands' in this sentence, teehee) while I lay awake that night, thinking up ideas, I thought it up, mudblood's blood and all : )  
  
Addy---thanks for reviewing! Lucius Malfoy forever! *Lucius, reading over my shoulder, smiles rather arrogantly, and Disapparates* *whew*  
  
Glass-Bead---Thanks for reviewing! : ) I love your story!!!  
  
Anyway, I already have the next chapter ready, and the one after that, and the one after that. I'm a bit lazy when it comes to these things though, so I'll need a bit of initiative to upload them. That's right, reviews! : ) *in a Trelawney-like misty voice* I predict fluff. mush. in.*gasp* chapter 13? Chapter 13. 


	11. Abandoned Corridors

Chapter 11  
  
I believe Severus loved Lily, in his own, strange brotherly way. Oh, he was never kind to her in public, and never nice to her directly. But when it spread around the castle, about her dreams, he asked me if I wanted to him to brew some Dreamless Sleep potions. The strangest instinct prompted me to say Yes, I did, before I was even aware of it. I didn't know *when* I'd have the chance to give it to her; I never saw her often.  
  
Meanwhile, Trelawney, our Bug-like divination teacher, had taken to following Lily around the hallways, always speaking in the same, worried voice.  
  
"My dear, my dear, you must listen to me, I sense in you the inner eye!"  
  
Lily, on the other hand, looking incredibly harassed, would clutch her books tighter to her chest and keep walking, her head down. Then, after giving another one of her long-suffering sighs, Trelawney would shout in an exasperated voice, for the entire hall to hear, "But my dear, you *could* be one of them!" There was no need to ask who *them* meant; almost as popular as Lily's dreams was Trelawney's 'The-fate-of-the-world- rests-on-three-students' prediction.  
  
Her outbursts and warnings had become a daily occurrence. And, during one of them, my chance came. Just as Lily was making her escape from bug-woman's sighs (ducking around a corner and into another corridor), she bumped into me. Literally fell into my arms. Her books went flying, and, all of a sudden, like she'd just decided to give up, she practically collapsed onto the floor in tears.  
  
Unsure of what to do, I knelt down beside her on one knee and patted her head rather awkwardly. I was used to dealing with women, but not *crying* women. I was a heartbreaker, yes, of course. I just left them *before* the dreaded tears started.  
  
At least the corridor was deserted. Students usually chose to use the other, newer one, as this corridor was rumored to house a banshee of some sort. That was just a rumor. I highly doubted Dumbledore would permit a banshee wandering around school. Lily was, by no means, wailing or howling like one. Don't get me wrong, she *crying*; my awkward patting had changed into more of an awkward hug, and I could feel her tears wet on my shoulder, feel her body wrack with silent sobs.  
  
This wasn't as hard as I'd thought it would be. All I had to do was hold her! And all along, I'd been afraid (yes, the *great* Lucius Malfoy *is* or, *was* afraid) of crying women. It would probably be much more dangerous if *I* was the cause of tears; then, I'd probably be at the receiving end of a hex (if she was a Slytherin), a slap (if she was a Ravenclaw), an insult (if she was a Gryffindor), and a glare (if she was a Hufflepuff).  
  
Now that I thought about it, I actually kind of liked it, hugging her. She was so small, so soft, and so warm in my arms. Well. All good things have to come to an end, and eventually, she did stop crying. I let go of her, quite reluctantly.  
  
"Thank you, Lucius. I'm sorry, I just couldn't--" She said, wiping away her tears. I said the first thing that came into my mind, at that moment.  
  
"You're beautiful when you cry." Her face broke into a watery smile. Now, you must understand, I wasn't saying this just to make her feel better. Her nose *was* rather red, but her green eyes seemed to sparkle with more radiance than before. Maybe they were just the tears. But whatever it was, I wasn't lying, when I said she was beautiful. "Are you feeling any better?" She nodded, but couldn't seem to meet my gaze, as if she was embarrassed. I searched my mind for something to talk about. I could *definitely* feel some tension in the air. "If you. . . don't. . . mind my asking, what happened?" I already knew, of course. But I just didn't think it was polite to let the object of gossip know she was being talked about.  
  
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A/N: *sigh* I know it's a pretty short chapter : (  
  
But if it's any consolation, I've already GOT chapter 12! Just press that little 'submit review' button, and you'll have it in no time!  
  
Addy---this is totally for you!!!! Good luck with your exams!!! : ) Lucius says good luck too, to quote him, he says (or mumbles, actually) "stupid little muggle exams, maybe I should torture a teacher or two." And, after reading that thing you said about the movie, he said:  
  
"I know I'm scary *evil cackle* *arrogant smile*" 


	12. Dream of Death

Chapter 12  
  
"It started with my dreams. You *know* about my dreams. I think everyone else does." I nodded. So much for not letting her know she was being talked about. "Well, I had a dream. About James."  
  
"How did you know it wasn't a normal dream?"  
  
"I've never *had* normal dreams." Never? I spoke my query aloud. "Never. I thought I was a little strange. Maybe I *do* have normal dreams, but I never remember them when I wake up."  
  
Well, that was usual, not remembering dreams, after all, that had happened to *me* before, but how could she *not* remember a *single* one?  
  
She continued, "But-this summer, I had a dream. That-that a woman would prophesy something about three people. It was a little hazy, when I woke up, but I remembered one line in particular, and that was the prophecy itself. At first, I'd thought it was just a dream, you know, and I'd finally remembered one, at last. But then, at the train. . . *you* know, you were there, you heard her." My curiosity was getting the better of me.  
  
"What happened to Jame-Potter in your dream?" Something horrible, probably, horrible enough to scare her like this.  
  
"He *Died*, Lucius." I could tell she was on the verge of tears again, but she went on, "It was a curse. He told me to run-I was there too-I saw myself, and I-I ran but when I did, I heard him-" Tears welled up in her eyes. "I can't look at him anymore, I keep seeing him, there on the floor, a shadow standing over him and-I just can't look at him. Now, he thinks I'm angry at him, and he won't talk to me because he's afraid to, and all those rumors. . . Only Bella talks to me now, and she had to go home because of her father, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do-" Now was probably the time to comfort her. I tried to, at least.  
  
"But you can't *really* be sure it was a-a-*premonition*, or anything, right? I mean, it *could* just be a dream. . ." I trailed off lamely at her look.  
  
"You don't understand, I just *know*, there's this *feeling* I have. . ." She sighed. I gave her one of my *special* smiles, the one that was guaranteed to have any other girl all over me. Maybe she'd smile back? It felt strange, to speak with her and not see her smile more than once.  
  
"At least *I'm* talking to you, right? Or do you High and Mighty Gryffindors not consider us Slytherins as people?" My tactic worked, because she laughed a little, through her tears.  
  
"Oh, of *course* I consider you as a person, Lucius, but you know what I meant, I'm all alone now without Bella, and people avoid me because they think I'm *odd*, and."  
  
"Don't tell me your *loyal* Gryffindor friends are shunning you just because you're different?" I pretended to sound appalled at the idea.  
  
"They were never really my friends, anyway, if-if they believed everything people say about me. They never knew me at all."  
  
"Well yes, that's the er-spirit, think about it that way." I said, rather awkwardly. I don't *cheer* people on, not on a regular basis. Somewhere in the castle, a bell chimed.  
  
Dinner.  
  
I stood up, and performed a little dust removing charm. As the dust swished off my expensive robes with a loud *POOF!*, she giggled, causing me to look at her suspiciously. "What?"  
  
"It's just, you're so. . ." She paused, to look for the right word, "*vain*."  
  
"Narcissus, now, am I?"  
  
"Well, you're Lucius, and that rhymes quite well." I offered my hand and helped her up off the floor.  
  
"So, what, am I Narcissa's soul mate or something?" I joked. She shuddered.  
  
"I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy! She's such a-such a."  
  
"Poodle?" I quipped. She laughed. I'd made her laugh.  
  
"I was going to say something else, but poodle seems to fit the description! Do you classify *everyone* into animals?" I shrugged nonchalantly.  
  
"Not animals."  
  
"What did *you* classify me as?" Should I tell her? She didn't look like she'd mind. Maybe I'd make her laugh again. Or not. I hesitated.  
  
"A scarecrow. Did. We *did* classify you as a scarecrow, because you used to be so thin, but you've-er-filled out now."  
  
"You did?!" She said incredulously.  
  
"We did."  
  
"WE??"  
  
"The entire Slytherin population, baby." I said, faking a cheesy American accent. She laughed again.  
  
"Well *we* call *you* Slytherin Slimeballs!" She replied in mock-anger.  
  
"Plural?"  
  
"We-ell-see, you're Slytherin Slimeball Number One, and Crabbe and Goyle are the Tomato Twins-"  
  
"*I'm* Slytherin Slimeball Number One?" I bowed. "My lady, I am honored, to have such a title bestowed upon my *lowly* self. Who, may I ask, is my number two?"  
  
"Snape."  
  
"Severus?"  
  
Immediately, I remembered the Dreamless Sleep Potion. I took it out of my robes and placed it in her hand. "I asked Severus to brew you some Dreamless Sleep Potion." She had a strange expression on her face. "It's not *poisoned* or anything-Severus is rather good with potions, you should know, you're in his year."  
  
She hugged me. Mind you, she had to tiptoe to do it. I was just getting over the surprise of suddenly feeling a warm body beside me when she whispered into my ear, "Thank you. And thank him too." She let go. Unfortunately.  
  
"Dinner." I managed to say, after I'd unstuck my throat. Girls did not *hug* me by surprise, I usually *seduced* them first.  
  
"Dinner!" The bell had chimed a while back, and we were late. Both of us. What would people think? The rumors *had* finally died down, but they would spring back up again like weeds if Lily and I went to dinner *together*, *late*, *after having 'vanished' into an abandoned corridor*. They wouldn't fall for any of my lies this time.  
  
"Hogsmeade?"  
  
"Hogsmeade? What?" I explained the concept of secret passageways. "But, I can't, I'm a prefect." She pointed at the shiny badge on her robe.  
  
"Good Gryffindor, eh, Evans?" I said sarcastically.  
  
"Oh *please* don't call me that, I hate it when people stereotype us!" This was said with such vehemence, I immediately pitied her and stopped my sarcastic teasing.  
  
"All right, all right. Where to then, Perfect Prefect?" Maybe I hadn't *exactly* stopped the teasing. She hit me lightly on the arm, but she was smiling.  
  
"The kitchens. Then. hmm, the gardens?" Oh yes, of course, those pathetic little house elves would be groveling to serve us! Shame I hadn't thought of it before. But the gardens? I had a better idea.  
  
"Not the gardens. The Astronomy Tower."  
  
"Isn't that Snog Central?" I grinned wickedly, nodding.  
  
"Do you want it to be?"  
  
"Haha, very funny Lucius. I wouldn't *snog* with a bunch of other people *snogging* around me. That would totally ruin the effect." She said, quite matter-of-factly, like secret snogging places had popped all over the castle during summer. Well, they hadn't. *I* knew that, for one.  
  
Take the other day, for example, with that Ravenclaw model-girl, Lindsey (at least I *thought* that was her name, it could just as easily have been Lolita). We'd had to go to the bloody tunnel! And that was after 30 minutes of searching for snoggable places, I might add. How was I supposed to know those bushes didn't rustle because of rabbits, or poltergeists? I'd had to deflect the curses that pimply sixth year and his girlfriend had thrown at me.  
  
"Well, no one's there, they're having dinner remember?"  
  
"Good point."  
  
"So, fancy a snog then?" I teased, saying it quickly, and hoping to catch her off guard. Well, bwahahaha, I did. I wasn't called a smooth talker for no reason.  
  
"Sure." She paused, possibly replaying my words in her head. "Wait, what?" I put on my most innocent look. "No, I do NOT fancy a snog!"  
  
"You don't?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yes? You do, then!"  
  
"No-"  
  
"You didn't not?"  
  
"I did, do, what?" I laughed at her confusion. She was simply irresistible when frustrated. It must have been the true-blue, red-head in her. Hmm, not bad. I liked the sound of that. "True Blue Red Head." She turned towards me.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That's your new nickname. Since you refuse to accept the Scarecrow one, True Blue Red Head it is." I said, with the air of one bequeathing something of great importance.  
  
"How oxymoronic." She said sarcastically.  
  
"Why Miss Lily, I didn't know you had a sarcastic bone in your body!" She glared at me too, and muttered something about stereotyping. Maybe my Slytherin Sliminess, as she called it, was getting to her.  
  
"How about Blonde-haired Git?" Oh, *I* was The Git now, was I? What had happened to Slimeball Number One? A bit of sarcasm, here and there-  
  
"Wonderful nickname."  
  
"Ooh, you're unbearable!" She gave me a little push, her green eyes flashing. I argued with her all the way to the Kitchens, just so I could frustrate her. Like I said, she was pretty that way.  
  
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Thank you all for reviewing!!! : D  
  
Addy-Lucius would have disapparated and tortured those teachers for you, but Fudge (annoying ol' minister) and his (fudge's) rules kept him back. Oh well :D It's the thought that counts!  
  
Willow-yay! I'm ecstatic, as I always am when a new reader pops up :D thanks for reviewing!!  
  
RedJasper---I love your stories!! :D  
  
Chelli---a new reviewer! Yippee! Hope you enjoyed this chapter :D  
  
Review review review review review!!!! :D  
  
*Lucius apparates and gives me a sedative*  
  
Ooh. look at the stars!!! And the pixies!!! *flops down and falls asleep* *Lucius gives evil smile and disapparates* 


	13. The Flaming Furnace We Call A Kitchen

Chapter 13  
  
I'd never really gone to the kitchens. Whenever I felt like having something to eat, I would head down the secret passage, to Hogsmeade. There was, of course, the occasional house elf I would find, cleaning up the room, or lighting the fire. My unusually potent powers of persuasion (simple leg locker curse, or one like it anyway, and a memory charm afterwards) allowed me to get food without having to go downstairs. It was rather surprising, from my point of view, that I hadn't needed to torture those house elves after all. I'd just had to ask them! The same way Lily was doing, right at that moment.  
  
"Daisy, Lucius and I were just wondering if you could fix us something to eat? Dinner's already started, and, well, you know, it *would* be quite embarrassing to barge in like that," She was asking kindly.  
  
"Yes miss! Of course, anything, anything!" The house elf squeaked, before *bowing* out of our presence. Lily turned to me.  
  
"Poor thing, look at her ear!" She whispered, and, sure enough, when I looked, half an ear was missing. I later recognized it as one of my 'experimental' guinea pigs, the one I'd tried Severus' new jinx on. Guilt (a rather foreign feeling, I might add) crept up on me.  
  
"Well, uh, I'm sure it'll grow back." She looked at me, shocked at my ignorance.  
  
"Ears don't just *grow back*, Lucius!"  
  
"They could!" I said defensively. "I mean, our legs don't grow back, but look at earthworms. The same principle might just apply to house elves, for all *you* know, Miss Lily." I'd taken to calling her that, because it made her even more frustrated.  
  
"House elves are just like-" I never *did* find out what house elves were like, because Dizzy, or Daisy or whatever it was called (In my opinion house elves shouldn't have names, 'elf' seems to work just fine), came up with two of its companions, carrying a heavy platter. Those house elves were fast, weren't they? "Thank you, Daisy, and you Queenie, and you too, Jerry," Lily said (to my horror, she actually knew these creatures by name), before giving me a sharp jab in the ribs. She expected *me* to say thank you to a *house elf*? Was she mad? I didn't express my gratitude to my subordinates! These elves were just doing their bloody jobs! I was Lucius Mal---  
  
"Thank you, Daisy. And to your little friends." The wretched little thing actually giggled and batted her bloody eyelashes at me! If I hadn't known Lily better, I would have suspected the Imperius Curse. How on earth had she gotten me to say thank you?  
  
I didn't know it, then. But that had just been the beginning of 'The Good Lucius' (or, at least, as close to good as I could get). Lily had... a *way* with me. I didn't know *how* she did it, but whenever she wanted me to do something, I'd do it. No questions asked. I don't think it was *A* charm, but rather, one of *her* charms. She'd just give me her pleading look, and I would melt. Oh, yes, the story. Right back to it, then.  
  
Those little elves had just handed me the platter (they looked doubtfully at Lily's feminine frame), which was heavier than I'd expected. Loaded with food enough for 5 students, probably.  
  
"'Bye!" Lily waved to the elves as they chorused their response. Why did she have to be so bloody nice to them all the time? I scowled even more as I pushed the heavy oak doors open. The fresh breeze felt good on my skin, especially after that flaming furnace of a kitchen. "See, you *can* be nice." She whispered.  
  
"Nice my arse. I was forced to say that, and *you* know it." I growled back.  
  
"Forced? I didn't have you at wandpoint or anything like that."  
  
"Ha. Feigning innocence, are we?" I was getting grumpier by the second. And within reason; my own *father* wouldn't have been able to convince me to say 'thank you' to those blasted elves. Not that he would actually *do* anything of the sort. No, my father hated elves, muggles, and mudbloods alike.  
  
This *girl* made me feel odd, period. She made me feel like nothing, absolutely *nothing*, was in my hands. I didn't like losing control of the situation. IT JUST WASN'T RIGHT.  
  
"Lucius?" She was waving a hand in front of me. Immediately, I snapped out of my thoughts. You all know I tend to get caught up in them sometimes.  
  
"Yes?" My voice came out colder than I'd wanted. She ignored it, no small feat for anyone---little fifth year Gryffindors, least of all.  
  
"We never *did* decide, the Tower or the Gardens?"  
  
"Your choice." I cloaked my feelings in sarcasm and nonchalance.  
  
"How about the Lake?"  
  
"How about Giant Squid."  
  
"Oh, right." Her face fell. More guilt. I'd just remembered her 'emotional ordeal', and I probably wasn't helping one bit. Ordinarily, she would have had enough enthusiasm for both of us. But this wasn't ordinary, was it. I made a mental note to be . . . *nicer*. I almost shuddered visibly at the word.  
  
"You heard the story?" She nodded, and smiled a little, at the lighter tone of my voice. Everyone knew about the first year whose picnic had been 'stolen' by a giant tentacle. It was almost legend.  
  
"Fine then, the Tower." I gave a mischievous grin at the suspicious look cast my way. "You asked *me*, and the Tower *is* cleaner. No chance of beetles flying onto your meal. Trust me, it's happened." She shrugged, and followed.  
  
The Astronomy tower must have been at *least* four centuries old. It's walls, worn smooth by age, were held together magically. Otherwise, it would already have crumbled after it's first hundred years. The door was locked. I snorted, at this. So did she. We both knew locks were completely useless against wizards and witches. It *did* keep out the occasional pest (by that, I meant all annoying magical creatures, little children included), but other than that. . . well, Alohamora did the trick.  
  
"See, not a single couple in sight." I whispered, triumphantly, before setting the platter down.  
  
"Not there, let's go upstairs!" I stared at her for a moment. "Dine among the stars? At least we'll have the *real* sky above us, you know, not just a bewitched ceiling."  
  
Let me pause at this point in the story, and explain how exactly the tower layout is like.  
  
Imagine a hollow spire. Completely smooth, and therefore impossible to scale outside, and empty inside, except for a flight of stairs. A flight of stairs that follows the curve of the tower, around and around, until it reaches the top. Nothing much awaits you at the top of the stairs: no door, unless you count the one on the ceiling. So, for tall people such as myself, we have to hunch down a little bit before we manage to poke our head through the hole (it doesn't deserve to be called 'a door'). The 'roof' of the tower is about 12 meters diameter, and slightly convex in nature. You don't have to worry about slipping off though because the tiles on top are charmed with a spell to prevent those sorts of things.  
  
Now you can understand *why* I stared at Lily in shock and amazement when she wanted to 'dine among the stars'. How were we going to climb up those stairs with a heavy platter? Magic, of course, was indeed, an option. Levitate the platter. But, for those of you who aren't familiar with it, magic requires a certain amount of concentration. And so I believed there would be a certain amount of difficulty involved, concentration on the 'magic', and concentration on *not* plunging 150 feet to meet certain death.  
  
Of course, being *me*, I was totally gone the instant she gave me that pleading look of hers.  
  
"Oh, all right." I said, trying not to smile like a fool.  
  
'Like' being the keyword; Lucius Malfoy never was, and never will be, a fool.  
  
Once again, I digress. Let me continue. Unfortunately, I have absolutely NO IDEA how I managed to get up there, so a detailed account of my ascent will not be available. But I did manage, of course. A Malfoy always manages.  
  
A/N:I know I 'predicted' a lot of fluff to come up in this chapter, but then it would have been too long : ) So, instead, I'm cutting this chapter in half, and the 'fluffy' part will come up in chapter 14. My predictions *are* like Trelawney's after all, huh? Oh well, as mentioned, fluff will *definitely* come up in the next chapter. Cross-my-fingers-hope-to-die- stick-a-needle-in-my-eye promise. (Lucius volunteered a crucio if I didn't have fluff in the next chapter, but I think needles in eyes are far more damaging : )  
  
Thanks to all of those who reviewed, because, like I said before, I really really really appreciate it. And so does LUCIUS. He says he 'likes the fact that people are interested in him more than that Potter-boy'. And, for Lucius, that's saying quite a lot, don't you think?  
  
Chelli-- thanks for reviewing again! *hugs* Yes, more is *definitely* on the way.  
  
Trixi Hellfire-- A new reviewer! *calms self down* I'm glad my fic managed to 'stand out' : ) 


	14. A Peck on the Cheek? I think not

Chapter 14  
  
It was windy, on the rooftop. But as soon as I'd finished scowling up at the stars and cursing the heavens, I noticed Her. She was standing at the edge, looking down. Wasn't she just the least bit afraid? Because I sure as hell was. And not for me, either. For her. Spells or not, standing there, with nothing but a few decayed spells to stop her from being dragged down mercilessly onto the cold, stone floor below. . .  
  
"Come and join me, Lucius." She smiled at me, patting the seat beside her. I smoothed my features, making sure I looked completely free of worry, before sitting down.  
  
"Why must you always say my name?" All right, I suppose it *was* rather out- of-topic (although what topic we were on completely beyond me), but it was a question that had been plaguing me for a while, now. People didn't my name often, but, for some odd reason, she did.  
  
"I like it."  
  
"You do?" Absolutely nothing but surprises tonight, I thought.  
  
"I do. Why, is anything wrong with your name?"  
  
"Nothing. However, people seem to enjoy calling me Malfoy instead." I shrugged.  
  
"Well, Lucius is a nice name."  
  
"So is Lily." It was a bit too. . . feminine for my taste, yes, but it seemed to suit her.  
  
"Oh, I would've liked being named something else." My usually dormant curiosity was aroused. That, in itself, was a rather rare occasion, as it was ordinarily inclined towards the dark arts.  
  
"Like?"  
  
"Jasmine, maybe. Or Tamara. Something more exotic and less. . . *boring*." She laughed to herself. "Of course everyone probably thought 'good little lily' was the most boring person on earth, before I started having these dreams."  
  
"I didn't think you were *boring*," I lied, ignoring memories of the time Peter had made a list of the top ten most boring people in Hogwarts, and she'd been awarded third place. Her surprisingly penetrating, jade green eyes turned from the stars and looked, no, pierced, into mine.  
  
"Really."  
  
"All right, you may have been a little on the. . . er. . . unnoticeable side, but, hey, we noticed enough to call you Scarecrow, didn't we?" She smiled a little, and resumed stargazing. This woman thought too much. Girl! Not woman, girl. Just because she happened to *look* like a woman, it didn't mean she *was* a woman. A girl. That's all she was. Absolutely.  
  
I most probably would have continued along this particular line of thought for some time. However, the undeniably delicious smells coming from the platter drew me out of them. "Food?" I offered. She looked at me. Or, more accurately, stared. Blankly. Her eyes were distant for a moment, as if she were seeing something from somewhere else. Then they focused.  
  
"Yes, right, food, I almost forgot." Her words were rather ironic, really, because *we* soon 'forgot' everything but the plate in front of us. I wasn't usually this much of a glutton, but I had worked up quite an appetite. The astronomy tower was *at least* half a mile away from the castle, and if you added stair-climbing and cold weather to the equation, you had an extremely hungry young man.  
  
Eventually (two plates of pasta, bread, cheese, and pork roast later), our appetites were sated and we were once again left in silence.  
  
Don't misunderstand me when I speak of silence; not *all* silence is uncomfortable. This kind of silence was more of a quiet, look-at-the-sky- instead-of-me silence. Fine. So maybe it *was* just a tad bit uncomfortable. But you should know I'm not one for initiating conversations. Luckily, Lily was.  
  
"Look Lucius, the moon's smiling." Had all the wind gone into her head, and made her some unrecognizably daft woman (girl, not woman, girl.)? The moon didn't *smile*, not in the muggle world, and definitely not in the wizarding world. Besides, as far as my limited muggle knowledge told me, we both had the same moon anyway.  
  
It was only when I looked up at the sky that I understood. The moon was a thin, sliver of crescent brightness, with two, exceptionally bright stars beside it, very much like a colon. Hmm, maybe she *hadn't* gone daft after all. It *did* look very much like a. . . what do you call it? A smiley face.  
  
"Strange, I've never seen those stars before."  
  
"You never looked." Her answer was so plain, so simple, so. . . *true*, that I couldn't help but say something in my defense.  
  
"For your information, I go star gazing at my manor all the time," I said, rather smugly.  
  
"Maybe you *do* look. But do you *see* the stars? The shapes they make. . ." She didn't look at me, even as she said all this. She seemed fixated by the sight of the night sky.  
  
"I know all the constellations. Muggle *and* wizarding." Silence. Then, I heard and odd sound coming from her direction. I turned, and to my astonishment, she was laughing quietly. At me! She was laughing at me! People don't *laugh* at Malfoys. "What?" I said, grouchiness once again setting in.  
  
"You. . . take yourself much too seriously sometimes." Here she was, a *fifth-year* muggle-born, and she was *assessing* MY character?  
  
"I do *not*!" It's amazing how childish I sounded when I said this. Her quiet laughter had somehow bubbled out, and now she was leaning forward and clutching her sides.  
  
Normally, I would have continued this heated little argument (heated on my part, that is). But the fear and worry I had managed to squash down was rising up again, at an alarming pace. Why, you ask? Read that portion again, about her *leaning forward* and *clutching her sides*. Focus more on the leaning forward. Leaning forward, especially when you're seated on the roof of an old, dilapidated tower, with high winds pushing at you from behind, is dangerous business. Minds can do all sorts of tricks, when you're *that* high up, looking *that* far down.  
  
I stood, and pulled her up a roughly. Judging by the look in her eyes, I wasn't the only one being bombarded by surprises tonight.  
  
"What?" She said this breathlessly. I'd obviously knocked the wind out of her when I'd pulled her up. Upon realizing I was still holding her by the shoulders, I let go, ignoring how soft she'd felt beneath her robes, and, even more, how flushed and pretty she'd looked, as if she'd just been kissed-  
  
"You could have fallen."  
  
"There are spells to stop that." Around this time, I was starting to get quite embarrassed.  
  
"Well-yes, but it's dangerous, nonetheless." I searched my mind for excuses. "Besides, if those spells are as old as this tower, they've probably lost their strength. But, if you wish to test them, then, by all means, jump off." I motioned coldly toward the stone floor below, inviting her to 'take the plunge', so to speak. This was a little mean, and unsympathetic, but. . . I couldn't just let her stand there and make an idiot out of me (not that she could).  
  
Then again, I didn't know *what* I'd do, if she decided to accept that invitation. Haul her downstairs, probably, talk some sense into her (this, in itself, was quite an odd expression for me, because I usually opted for 'knock some sense into so-and-so') and make sure she would never set foot on the Astronomy Tower again.  
  
She was silent.  
  
"I never got to thank you, for helping me that time at the field." I didn't know *what* I'd been expecting, but I certainly *hadn't* expected this.  
  
"You don't have to." I said shortly.  
  
"But I want to. Thank you, Lucius." She'd said my name again. I rather liked how she said it; Lucius was one of the names people often found hard to say kindly. That was probably *why* my father had chosen it for me. But she was different. She said the name, in such a way that it reminded me of something nice, like cool breezes on a hot day. Maybe it was her voice. Or maybe it was the life behind her voice, beautiful and young. What was I thinking? Beautiful? Young? These words had definitely *not* been in my vocabulary a few short months ago.  
  
"Are you always like this?" I was annoyed, and exasperated. Exasperated by her, and annoyed at myself.  
  
"Always like what?" She said innocently.  
  
"Oh, I don't know, stubborn, *spoiled*. . ." I ticked them off my fingers. She started laughing again.  
  
"And what's so funny?"  
  
"You!" She giggled, and I couldn't help but think she didn't sound at all like those Giggly-Gossipy-Gryffindor Girls. I wanted to keep her giggling, for the same reason I'd wanted to keep her frustrated an hour ago. She looked so. . . nice. Annoyingly, yet entrancingly so.  
  
"Me?" I said incredulously, pointing at myself.  
  
"Yes, you've been 'painting' your self portrait." She giggled some more.  
  
Why did she have to look so beautiful when she giggled? Why did she have to be so bloody nice to me? And *why*, out of all the things I could have done, did I decide to choose that exact moment to lean over and KISS HER?  
  
No, I *didn't* make a fool of myself, oh you of little faith. Like I said before, I never was, and never will be, a fool. So, with instincts only years of experienced kissing and snogging could give, I pulled away at the perfect moment. Not that I wanted to.  
  
"You giggle to much." This was supposed to sound a little mischievous, but I hadn't known my voice would come out so. . . husky. And serious. She said nothing, only looking at me with her bright green eyes, which were wide with an emotion I couldn't understand. If she *had* said something, I probably wouldn't have heard it anyway. I was too busy seeing (and, quite unconsciously, memorizing) every detail of her face. The light dusting of freckles sprinkled on the bridge of her nose, the pale, delicate skin of her eyelids, her porcelain cheeks that were now tinged with pink, the curve of her lips-  
  
That was my big mistake. Did you see it? Yes, I know. I *really* shouldn't have looked at her lips.  
  
Because when I did, I remembered the feel of them against my own, their softness, their warmth.  
  
Because when I did, I kissed her. Again.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Bwahahaha!!! How *is* dear Lucius going to squirm his way out of this one? You'll see. In the next chapter :D But then, the only way to *get* that next chapter will be to review!!! So please please please review??? Pretty please with a cute Lucius figurine on top of a nice strawberry sundae? Hmm, I'm hungry. Ouch. What was that?  
  
*turns around, only to see our favorite villain behind her, poking yet again with his wand*  
  
*"What do you want?"*  
  
*Lucius gives an evil smirk*  
  
*"Accio muggle typing instrument!"* Oh drat--  
  
Greetings, all of you. After doing a little research on the muggle- information-storing-device *"It's a computer"* Yes, well, whatever it's called. Now, after looking through it, I saw a certain, already written chapter. I wonder, what could it be. *feigns stupidity* Why, yes, of course, it's the chapter after this one! What I mean to say is, I've taken that particular chapter hostage. Yes, until this muggle-typer-writer-girl tells me (under *strong* Veritaserum influence, thanks to Severus) that she's received a certain number of reviews. Four or Five should do the trick, as I'm feeling *quite* generous today. Oh, and one more thing, pertaining to the girl's earlier comment, about me 'squirming my way' out of a certain situation. I don't squirm. Malfoys do not *squirm*.  
  
*Disapparates*  
  
Well, at least I got my keyboard back. Thanks to all of you who reviewed!  
  
Addy--*shudder* latin tests sound. . . scary. Hope you did well, and hope this chappie's fluffy enough for you :D But there is tons more fluff to come, but not in the next chapter, unfortunately :D  
  
Dwendilwen-I'm glad you liked it, and I hope you keep on reading! I'm a LOTR Fan too :D  
  
Glass-bead-- I'm glad you like the chapter title! I didn't really know what to type down there, The Kitchens sounded too boring, so I just *stole* the flaming furnace part from Lucius :D 


	15. A Heartbeat After

Chapter 15  
  
She smelled like cold mornings and summer nights, both at the same time. My hands rested on the small of her back for a moment, before moving to her shoulders. What was I doing? This was wrong, I wasn't supposed to be doing this, not with her. . . But she smelled so good. . . A soft sigh escaped her lips, and I felt myself drowning in her taste, her scent, her touch. It seemed like everything about her held mystery and beauty, mysteries that I was only too glad to unfold.  
  
Even though the kiss felt like it lasted for an eternity, in reality, it must have only been a few seconds. She pulled away this time, leaving me slightly dazed. Lack of oxygen, I suppose. Only for a brief second; I was back to normal soon enough, although being at a loss for words was certainly *not* normal behavior for a Malfoy. I said the first thing that came to my mind, in my desperation.  
  
"Now you know *why* people call it Snog Central." I gave one of my infamous smirks, hoping to veil my emotions in them. I was very good at those sorts of things.  
  
"Why did you kiss me?" Rather straight to the point, wasn't she? The words 'Because I wanted to, and I always get what I want' were at the tip of my tongue, but somehow, I couldn't say them.  
  
Yes, I *had* wanted to feel her lips pressed against mine, had almost *needed* to feel them, but I sensed a particular *reason* behind this kiss, a reason that I was still unaware of. Possibly, my subconscious mind was aware, and I had just refused to acknowledge it. Not possibly, most probably. Was I so good at hiding things from other people that I ended up hiding them from myself?  
  
I needed to stall. I didn't want to say things I would later regret; I really *did* have a reputation to maintain.  
  
"As far as I could tell, I wasn't the only one kissing."  
  
"No, you weren't." Silence. "Can we go back to the castle?" I nodded, very much needing the sanctity and Slytherinity of my room. Lily was quiet, and she seemed too wrapped up in her own thoughts to say anything else. As I was just about to begin my descent down those dreadful stairs, I thought blossomed in my mind. Why hadn't we just flown here in the first place? I cursed myself for my obvious lack of foresight, and summoned my broom immediately.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ * * * *Later* * * * ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
From my experience, I strongly recommend you don't think things you're not supposed to when Severus is around. That man has a mind as sensitive as octopus feelers; he can just about *sense* secret thoughts. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if those feelers sprouted out of his head one day. Maybe they already have, only they've gotten tangled in that forest of greasy hair he's been growing.  
  
To explain my sudden, anti-Severus diatribe, I shall resume my story.  
  
I was lying on my bed, thinking (You all know very well what about. Or who, for that matter). He was sitting at his desk, probably inventing more hexes. Everything would have been perfectly *spiffy*, if he'd kept his damned mouth shut. Well, he hadn't.  
  
"You missed dinner." What was he, my bloody mother now?  
  
"And?" As you can probably tell, I wasn't at all in the mood to talk.  
  
"Well, where were you?"  
  
"None of your bloody business." He was quiet for a moment, before he continued.  
  
"How's the moon tonight, Lucius? Is it full?"  
  
"Positively peachy, and no, it's crescent, why?" My voice was dripping with barely contained sarcasm, but he hardly seemed to notice.  
  
"Who were you at the Astronomy tower with?" How the *bloody muggle* had he known?  
  
"No one." And I'd prided myself on being good with lies. I couldn't have been more obvious, even if I'd marched around in my knickers with the world LIAR printed on them. Nobody went to the Astronomy Tower *alone*.  
  
"Oh, Lily. She's sleeping better with the potion now, I suppose." He nodded and turned back to his work, satisfied at his own genius. I wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp right then and there. But how *had* he known? Was it so blatantly obvious?  
  
I practically leapt off my bed, my wand pointed right between his eyes.  
  
"You tell anyone, and I swear you'll be dead before you can say mudblood." I growled. Why did my bloody roommate have to be so bloody insightful? Maybe Crabbe or Goyle would have been a better choice. What they lacked in brains, they made up for with their silence.  
  
"You curse me, and I swear you'll be in Azkaban before you can say Avada Kedavra." He mocked in his almost monotonous voice, his black eyes somehow more intimidating in their hollowness than my mine could ever be. In one smooth movement, he'd stood up as well, his wand raised in dueling position. "Maybe I should test that new curse on you, hmm? The one that turns your own hair into murderous metal spikes that try to stab you to death? Your hair seems long enough."  
  
"That wouldn't really work now, would it, since I know of the particular jinx your hexes are based on, and *that* in itself is easy enough to counter curse." This was a lie, actually, but Severus wasn't the *only* one who knew how to make spells. We both knew that the foundation of a particular spell was very hard to make, and so it was easier to copy that of an already written one, modifying the spell as you went along. "Tut tut, Severus, you shouldn't leave your parchment lying around where anyone can see."  
  
Apparently, I'd struck a nerve, because he scowled, and sat back down, scribbling wildly onto his notes. I allowed myself a smirk, before walking out. He wasn't the only genius in the room.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: I know this is a rather short chapter, and I'm still working on the next one. No, Severus and Lucius have *not* had a falling out; they fight like this all the time, without really fighting. Blame Lucius and his odd beliefs about Slytherins sticking together and such. I had to interview Mr. Snape about *how* exactly he knew about Lily, and the astronomy tower. And let me tell you, he doesn't like interviews. *nurses a hexed arm* Anyway, he said something about cloudy nights, and how you can only see the moon on cloudy nights from the Astronomy Tower. And when I asked him how he knew about Lily, he laughed (or, more appropriately, cackled).  
  
Hmm, what else. . . oh, yes, there IS a reason why I've clouded Lily's feelings in this chapter. . . Lucius told me to do it, because it's supposed to 'heighten the suspense'. This from a man who tortures poor muggles like me for a living. And I hope you notice the terrible mood Lucius is in. He seems to be swearing more than usual.  
  
And I'm so sorry this chapter doesn't have much Lucius/Lily interaction. The next one will, though, not to worry. :D  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Chelli- I'm glad Lucius has managed to win over your heart, and so is Lucius *motions to deliciously evil dark wizard with evil smirk on his face, pacing in the back ground* You were right, though, he *is* writing himself. . . must be one of his spells, because I swear I hear a Lucius in my head sometimes. . . *casts suspicious look at Lucius, which is returned with an evil, knowing smile* Thanks for reviewing TWICE!!! :D  
  
Nah 'Leans Grrl--- A new reader! *claps, and stops herself upon feeling an evil glare in her direction* *ooops, forgot, Lucius demands silence* :D This chapter shows a bit of how Lucius deals with it *whisper* which isn't very good at all, but the next chapter shows more Lily and her reactions. :D  
  
Dark Rose--- Another new reader! I've got no money to pay that bill, so I hope I posted quick enough for you! :D Unfortunately, he *did* give me that Veritaserum, and I'm still suffering from the numbing aftershocks. Oh well. Hope you keep reading, and enjoying!  
  
Addy---hmm, has Lucius been giving you lessons? I could almost feel the same aura around both of you. . . hmm. Thanks for reviewing TWICE! :D Lucius, thrilled as he was at the prospect of *disposing* (his choice of words, not mine, mind you) of an important muggle, says 'he'd rather not'. In fact, he's practically promised to 'protect' anyone who reads his life story. And reviews *cough cough*. "You know, all muggles will need protection *when* the Dark Lord returns" he says in his all-knowing voice. *when* the dark lord returns? Riiight. *is rewarded with a mild curse from Lucius* Humph. Good luck on your SAT II's!! They sound scary. . . Waah, over here, school starts in THREE days!!! Humph, yes, as you approach summer. . . I approach school. Shudder.  
  
Jen--- a new reviewer! Reader, whatever! A new something, anyway :D thanks for reviewing, and Lucius is rather touched that you noticed his new torture method. He's 'perfecting' it, so he says. Thanks for reading and reviewing :D  
  
Teasers:: I made a super fluffy chapter that's Lucius-fluffy, so it's not horribly saccharine-sweet, but I don't know where to put it exactly. . . Hmm, I'm thinking chapter 20 or something. . . Unfortunately, the next chapter will take a while, since I've no idea what to write. . . 


	16. Piro the Pathetic

Chapter 16  
  
They say a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.  
  
If that happened to be even *remotely* true, then *why* hadn't *I* begun my journey yet? Merlin knew I'd already taken enough steps for a lifetime, pacing around the bloody common room for nearly half an hour.  
  
To be honest, I had no idea *why* I was making such a big fuss over such little kiss. It wasn't like I had bloody virgin lips or anything. On the contrary, I'd probably locked-lips with more than half the female population in Hogwarts. And done more than that, besides. So *what* was so different with this one? All right, it was Lily. But Lily was just a woman-- *girl*, she was *just* a girl. Granted, a beautiful girl. But a girl nonetheless.  
  
I desperately needed to clear my mind and untangle the jumble of thoughts that had accumulated there. I needed my faithful broom.  
  
I walked back to my room, and saw Severus, fidgeting with his Potions set again. He glanced up at me- or at least, I thought he did (I could never be sure, with all that hair covering his face)--and motioned to a piece of sealed parchment on my desk, before bending down to measure some monkshood.  
  
"Another poison, Severus? Take care not to expend all your worm skin; I hear the market's low in supply these days," I said, as lightly and carelessly as possible.  
  
"I heard that as well. On the Daily Prophet yesterday, I believe." He replied, never looking up.  
  
And that was how we made our truce. You see, we Slytherins don't like saying sorry. Either we're never wrong, or we're just plain spoiled, I don't know. But I prefer to believe the former.  
  
It took quite a lot of self-restraint *not* to leap over to my desk and snatch up the letter. I walked slowly, and read it, the expression on my face literally shouting that it most boring thing on earth (though it certainly wasn't). What can I say? I was (and still am, by the way) an expert on masking emotions.  
  
Lucius,  
Could you meet me, 9:45, at the statue of Piro the Pathetic , the one near the old History of Magic classroom? .  
Lily I smiled involuntarily at the sight of her handwriting. It reminded me of her, for some absurd reason. I grabbed a cloak-I didn't care which one, I looked good in all of them anyway-and dashed out of the room, not caring if Severus thought me strange or not. My watch said 9:40. I didn't want to be late.  
  
She was standing there, looking as unsure of herself as I'd ever seen her.  
  
"Lily?" She gave a small smile.  
  
"Lucius. Why the invisibility cloak?" The invisibility cloak? True enough, as I looked down, my body was missing. So much for looking good *in* a cloak when I couldn't even be seen.  
  
"It's after hours, and I wouldn't want to get caught by Pringle." I shrugged it off, all the while cursing myself inwardly for not paying enough attention to what I was wearing. This would never happen again.  
  
"Well, could you take it off maybe? I feel rather odd speaking to a disembodied head." At least she'd gotten some of her humor back. Lily seemed *strange*.  
  
"Of course." A heart-melting smile (an attempt to get her back to normal; somehow, I couldn't bear to see her like this), and the cloak was off. "Now, what did you want to see me about?"  
  
"I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Lucius," My name again, and strangely my heart sort of skipped a beat, "Maybe we shouldn't really have. . ." she lowered her voice, "*kissed*." She regretted the kiss? No one regretted kissing Lucius Malfoy until *I* broke their hearts. Then, they probably regretted even seeing my face, but that was a whole other matter. I was feeling relatively defensive. I wasn't a horrible kisser, and both of us knew it.  
  
"There's nothing *wrong* with a bit of healthy kissing, you know." I drawled, more sarcastically than I'd wanted to. Her green eyes flashed at my words.  
  
"Well you know, it wasn't exactly *how* I pictured my first kiss to be like." First kiss? That couldn't be possible, she was a *fifth* year, for goodness (or badness) sake. I'd started kissing when I learned that girls did not, in fact, give off 'cooties'. And trust me, I'd learned that at a *very* young age.  
  
"You're not serious." What else was I supposed to say? 'Oh, sorry, I ruined the experience'? I *was* an expert liar, but I just couldn't say I was a bad kisser when I certainly wasn't.  
  
"Is it really that hard to believe, Lucius?" I was just about to say 'Yes, it is', when loud footsteps resonated from around the corner. Pringle. Without a word, I grabbed Lily and whipped the invisibility cloak about us. "What--" I put a finger to her lips and mouthed 'Pringle'. She nodded and kept silent.  
  
Needless to say, just moments after we'd 'disappeared', the thin, gangly figure of Apollyon Pringle passed by, his lantern swinging so close to us, it was nearly a miracle he didn't see the light reflected off our eyes. I could have sworn I saw him sniff the air for trouble. Rumor said that he was half-werewolf and half-vampire. Not that I listened to rumors, of course.  
  
We were both visibly relieved when he rounded the corner and disappeared.  
  
Then, we were quiet. The look on her face told me she wouldn't be breaking the silence any time soon.  
  
"Look, Lily, I'm sorry" I very nearly choked on the word, before continuing, "I didn't know." For some reason, I was feeling guilty, and I didn't know why.  
  
"Lucius, I didn't come here to wring an apology out of you, it wasn't your fault. You didn't really *force* the kiss on me, it just happened."  
  
"So what *did* you want to discuss with me then?" I leaned back on the wall, my arms crossed. Since both of us were still beneath the invisibility cloak, she had to move forward to adjust. Closer to me. Hmm. Not a bad idea.  
  
"The. . .erm. . . you know. . . uh. . .forgive me for sounding much too 'scientific', but I wanted to discuss the. . .I'm not sure if it's the right word, the *nature* of the kiss." The nature of the kiss? As far as I was concerned, kisses were either pecks, or preludes to snogs.  
  
"With or without tongue? We both know that--"  
  
"No, no, I meant, was it a. . . you know, a *casual* kiss, or a, you know. . ."  
  
"A not casual kiss?" I filled in. I was feeling incredibly stupid (*feeling* stupid isn't the same as *being* stupid, I must say) at that time, but from the look on her face, so was she.  
  
"Well, yes."  
  
"What do *you* think?"  
  
"I didn't know what to think, that's why I wanted to talk to you." Bloody hell. Did I want her to be my. . . consort? All right, that was probably pushing it a bit too far. Girlfriend. Of course I did, but what would it look like, I, the 'Slytherin Slimeball' as she called it, transfixed by Her, the Gryffindor Angel? No, no, that was *not* right at all. Rumors were flying around as it was, *without* us kissing and hugging in public. But we could *always* keep secrets. . . and everyone would be none the wiser. . . but what if- "Not casual. Definitely not casual." What strange, unseen, *sadistic* force made me say that? Had I just asked her to be my girlfriend? Albeit, indirectly, but there was hardly any difference, as both 'routes' led to the same conclusion.  
  
Then I noticed her, standing so close in front of me. Not just saw, but really *noticed*. It must have been the Imperius curse. Because Lucius Malfoy definitely *did not* lean over and brush her cheek gently with his hand, for no reason at all.  
  
But he did.  
  
*I* did.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A/N: This time, I'm holding the next chapter hostage! Bwahahaha, I'll be conveniently loaded with homework, unless I get more than 5 reviews. Please?? Review?? Lucius says so too. And, yes, school started. It's absolutely horrible! I didn't know making friends was so hard. It probably *is* though, if you're the only one trying. *sigh* I wish Lucius was here, to shoo away this cloud of depression following me about at the moment. Humph. But he's too busy with Draco's school troubles. Oh well.  
  
Chelli-Yes *smiles* it's definitely the hair. I mean, what would *you* rather have, nice, long, silver-blonde hair, or greasy, tangled, black hair? No competition at all. : D Thanks again for reviewing, and I'm glad you liked that part after they kissed : D  
  
Dwen-you got it completely right! :D As you can probably see in this chapter, Lily was scared, and that's why she was acting a bit strange. Thanks for reviewing! :D  
  
Addy-*sigh* school is definitely not right. Especially college. I wish I had a laptop, so I can type up the story when I don't have anything to do. Lily's still a little confused; remember she had a little crush on James? But then Lucius came into the picture, and, like any of us, she absolutely *cannot* resist his charms. I was thinking of writing a sequel to this, in Lily's POV, after Hogwarts. . . Still thinking about it though. :D Thanks for reviewing! :D 


	17. I Watch, While You Sleep

Chapter 17  
  
I never really told Lily to keep our little relationship a secret.  
  
But I think she knew. We were *both* smart enough to know that whatever we had would not be accepted by anyone.  
  
So, we went about in public acting like typical enemies. I gave my petty little insults, and, in return, she gave her occasional green-eyed glare. With the long awaited Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match only a day away, house tensions were at their peak. The Gryffindor's had a new chaser. Potter. I was going to enjoy beating him.  
  
The old rumors had died down, and Trelawney had finally grasped the futility of chasing Lily in-between classes (that had *absolutely nothing* to do with me sending an anonymous howler threatening to curse her if she continued to harass a particular, red-headed student. Nothing at all). What Lily could and could not do was *none* of the old bat's business, anyway. It served her right to have that Dungbomb explode in her room.  
  
It was a nothing short of miracle that I had time to spend with Her, with Quidditch practice and my unusually heavy load of homework taxing me. But we managed. We'd meet every day after dinner, always in front of the statue of Piro the Pathetic (up to now, I find myself rather fond of that statue, oftentimes visiting it when I go to collect Draco for the holidays). We'd go to the Library sometimes, just sitting there, reading books, and enjoying each other's company (always at the very back; we didn't want anyone seeing us together). As much as I hated to admit it, I truly liked having her around. Other times, we would skip dinner, and go to the gardens. However, we frequented the Astronomy Tower much more often. It was either the lack of bugs, or the excess of kisses, I don't know which. I had a strange feeling it had to do with the kisses.  
  
I was lying down on my bed *again*, in my usual thinking position, stretched out with my hands behind my head. This time, however, Severus was asleep, and so was the entire castle. I was restless. The match was just a few short hours away, and instead of getting my much needed sleep, I was thinking. Maybe Lily's insomniac ways were rubbing off on me.  
  
Lily.  
  
I had a strange urge to watch her sleep. Hell, it wasn't really an urge, it was a want, a *need*, even. The fact remained. I wanted to watch her sleep.  
  
And, you all know, what I want, I get.  
  
It wasn't difficult to climb on my broom and fly over to the Gryffindor tower, amidst various mental objections put in by my ever-annoying conscience (yes, we villains have those as well, only we've somehow mastered quieting them during the most crucial times). In fact, I greatly enjoyed feeling the wind whistling by me. I easily remembered where I'd dropped her off last time, and it didn't take long to find my way to the girls' dormitories.  
  
I hovered, moving slowly by the windows.  
  
There was Figg, then Clearwater, then-- Lily. She was just as I'd imagined her, curled up, tangled in her blankets, a slender leg peeking out. She was clutching a. . . I leaned forward to get a closer look. . . it looked like some sort of pillow. . . she was clutching a teddy-bear? Words breezed through my mind, faster, and, all in all, *colder* than the November wind flowing around me. Childish. Idiotic. Immature. *Adorable*. Now, where had *that* word come from?  
  
But, as I watched longer, entranced, for some strange reason, by her sleeping form, I realized there was no other way to put it. She *did* look adorable.  
  
As she shifted, I even caught a glimpse of her flannel night clothes, dotted with stars and and bright yellow smiley faces. I couldn't help but see the difference between that, and my dark-green satin ones, embroidered with silver snakes at the sleeves. Flannel and smiley- faces looked nicer.  
  
Feeling oddly refreshed, I flew back to my dormitory, and went to sleep.  
  
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A/N: Yay!! I can finally upload chapters!! *jumps for joy*  
  
Thanks for reviewing!!! They made me forget the horrors of school for an entire morning! :D  
  
Addy-what would I do without you? ;D Thank you for forwarding the chapter to Dark Rose and Jen :D I really appreciated it. The more who read and review, the better, I always say. :D I've already started the sequel, but posting it will probably ruin a bunch of surprises in THOUGHTS. And yes, I *do* need to curse those horribly annoying school people!!! Grr. It's a little scary how Lucius can grow on me sometimes... I was typing up a letter to my mom, and I was surprised at some evil 'bwahahahas' and other Lucius-like phrases popping up randomly. Bwahahaha. -- see?? he *is* getting to me!!  
  
Dark Rose- I'll have to inform Lucius of your unfortunate imprisonment in that horrid, horrid room. I'm sure he'll be happy to help (*cough cough* Avada Kedavra all your captors after torturing them for an extended period of time *cough* *cough*)  
  
Jen- but, Lucius torture is nice!! Bwehehehe. Maybe I could lend him to you for a while... what do you think? Then you'd probably enjoy it much more :D I've *set* this chapter *free*, in your words, but it might take a while for the next one, sorry! :D Just the annoying school work. I *do* hope Lucius appears in time to Avada all those teachers to death. 


	18. Slytherin vs Gryffindor

A/N: I love you Lucius, I love you I love you I love you. *cough* *cough* Back to the story. :D  
  
Chapter 18  
  
The day of the match dawned, unusually cold, even *for* autumn weather. Despite having had very little sleep the night before, I was as wide-awake and energetic as I always was before a game. That, however, was more than I could say for my teammates. Their skin was green enough to match their robes. Were they really *that* afraid of the Gryffindors? We'd beaten them countless times before. Not bothering to finish my breakfast, I mumbled "Meeting, on the grounds," before walking out of the great hall, without even turning around.  
  
The footsteps behind me told me they were following.  
  
The wind attacked our robes violently, cold and biting. I ignored it. We'd gotten the cup for 3 consecutive years, and this year would be no different. We weren't really overestimating ourselves; Gryffindor *was* our only challenge. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were easy prey. Their defense was weak, and their seekers wouldn't be able to see a snitch unless it came up and bit them on the nose. And, as far as I knew, Snitches didn't bite.  
  
"You're all worried about *Gryffindors*?" I said the house's name with disdain. They were silent. I toned down my glare a little; I didn't want to have them *too* scared. They were Slytherins, and it wasn't proper to have Slytherins trembling with fear. After a moment, Twilus Higgs, the seeker, spoke up.  
  
"The Gryffindors-they've got a new chaser. And. . . he plays quite well. We've seen him during practice. And their seeker--" I raised a hand to stop him.  
  
"A chaser. That's *one* person. You two." I pointed to our beaters: Parkinson and Zabini. "Make sure he doesn't *have* a chance to score." They replied with identically maniacal sneers. We never played *dirty*, I wouldn't allow it. There was, however, no harm in stretching the rules as far as possible. "The other two chasers disagree too much to do any good, and chasers only work well together. You've practiced your formations and signals?" The chasers nodded solemnly. "Twilus. *Get the Snitch*."  
  
Surveying my team, I noticed that, although they still looked a little queasy, their sickly green tinge had disappeared. It was a good thing I had more than enough confidence to rub off on them. "Good luck, then, to all of you. Not that we'll need it."  
  
Madame Hooch blew the whistle, and both teams soared up into the air. The game had started. I flew to the rings, watching the quaffle. Higgs had been right. Potter *was* a good chaser. He seemed to be the connecting force between the other two, and, for once, I saw them move together. Our two beaters looked like blundering idiots, trying to block him with bludgers and, eventually, as a pathetic last resort, with their own massive forms.  
  
I, on the other hand, managed to deflect the quaffle two out of three times. That, was quite annoying. I usually managed to deflect it three out of three. They hadn't made me team captain just for my good looks (although I must say that would have been enough).  
  
Fortunately, the Gryffindor's keeper was horrible. He seemed to be blocking the wrong rings.  
  
"30-80 to Slytherin!" McGonagall said, a hint of annoyance in her sonorous- charmed voice. Well, I couldn't blame her; after all, she *was* the head of Gryffindor.  
  
I cursed out loud as Potter scored yet *another* ten points. I hated him, but I had to admit, he wasn't at all *bad* on a broomstick. Anyone who could get past me 'wasn't at all bad', in my book. I cast a glare at the beaters, who both seemed to have lost the ability they'd been chosen for.  
  
"DON'T JUST SIT AROUND THERE, USE THE BLOODY BLUDGERS!" I bellowed, infuriated at their lack of common sense. Just because they hadn't been able to block Potter, it didn't mean they had to spend the rest of the blasted match moping about it.  
  
A bludger, hit by the other team's beater, barely missed me. I gave another glare to prove my point, and swerved to block Potter from scoring.  
  
Five minutes later, the score was 60-100, in our favor. Loud gasps and whispers from the stands brought me out of my anger-induced stare at the quaffle.  
  
"It appears Potter has-" I could almost *feel* McGonagall's eyes widening, "Albus, this isn't a-" Her statement was cut off as she removed the voice- magnifying charm.  
  
I looked up, to see Potter swaying dangerously on his broom, with nothing but his hands keeping him on it. Jelly Legs Jinx. Sure enough, Peter (Parkinson) was sneering, the tip of his wand barely visible in the folds of his robes. Loud shouts came from the Gryffindor stands. I allowed myself to look at Lily. She was leaning forward, anxiety and worry written all over her face. Potter had slipped off his broom, and was dangling precariously with one hand.  
  
The Quidditch match had stopped completely, with everyone, including the Slytherin players, watching Potter.  
  
I didn't know why, but I moved forward, to help him. For Lily probably, I certainly didn't do it to *help* him.  
  
Just then, a flash of gold caught my eye. The snitch. THE SNITCH! I paused momentarily, a few feet short of Potter, to look at our nearly catatonic seeker, "Twilus, get the SNITCH!"  
  
All right, I admit, it really *would* have been much more valiant to swoop in and save James. But I was a Slytherin, not a *Gryffindor*. Luckily, for James, at least, my shout had managed to distract Peter, and the curse had broken.  
  
Need I really say what happened next? Yes, we got the snitch. And yes, we beat the Gryffindors. I should have been happy, really. I should have. But. . . when Lily went over to see if Potter was all right, instead of joining my horde of adoring fans. . . well, let's just say I was disappointed.  
  
No, let me rephrase that.  
  
I was jealous.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: Aww, isn't it sweet? Lucius is jealous!!! *laughs in an odd-sort of way* *feels a familiar poke at her back*  
  
*"Lucius!! You're back!!"* *receives another poke, paired with an evil smirk*  
  
*"So I am."* *another evil smirk* *"I must be quick, I need to cook up more evil plots to get rid of that insanely old wizard they call a headmaster."* *evil laugh* *"I did the imperius on those muggle geniuses they have that that little web-sit --"* *  
  
*"WebSITE, Lucius"*  
  
*"I needn't dirty myself by learning muggle terms, you know."* *evil smirk* * "Going to thank me for my charitable little act?"*  
  
* "Oh, thank you thank you THANK YOU!"* *jumps on Lucius and hugs* *Lucius is temporarily stunned* *Lucius coughs*  
  
* "Remove yourself off my person, Muggle."* *Lucius hides a tiny, evil-yet- pleased smile, before disapparating with a POP!*  
  
*Author gives a strange, nervous giggle, reminiscent of Dobby* Yes, well. . . the thank yous, yes, right back to it then *cough cough* I love you Lucius *cough cough*  
  
Thank you all so much for reviewing!!!! : D I know say that all the time, but really, your reviews keep me going!! And another thing, I'd also like to thank my friend, Iz, for helping me with the quidditch part : D I had a horrible case of writer's block, but she gave me the idea to write what I did, so thanks Iz!! : D  
  
Jen-I've set this chapter free! Free! Free! *cough* I seriously think all this school work is roasting my brain. We had two quizzes today, and it's only the second week of class!! What's wrong with these teachers! Drat, and I forgot to ask Lucius to Avada them. Oh well. Lucius says he's free on Mondays, 3 am to 5 am, and Fridays, 6 pm to 10 pm. The rest of the time, he says, is for his *ahem* beauty sleep, muggle terrorizing sessions, and Anti- dumbledore plotting sessions.  
  
Dark Rose-- *gasp* My, what a horrible psychiatrist! *tut tut tut*. Stealing his computer *was*, after all, the only rational thing to do! There can't be many computers in white, rubber coated rooms, can there? Dreadful, dreadful man. *shakes head* What *are* muggles becoming these days? We're morphing into the very images witches and wizards have made for us! Horrible. Absolutely horrible. I'm sure Lucius will be infuriated by this when he finds out. I'll make it a point to tell him.  
  
Willow Isilme Edra-- : D I've written some more with a whole lot more to come, and I hope this after comment is funny enough! :D I think it's just plain weird, since school drains all the humor out of me *sigh* *shakes head and tries to think of Lucius instead of school* Thanks for reviewing! :D I know what you mean, I always feel speechless when I'm about to review a story :D  
  
Dwen-- *smiles apologetically* I know, I know, my chapters are really short :D but I don't get much time to write long ones anymore (although I can promise chapter 20 will be nice, long and fluff-filled!), so just bear with me :D Lucius was, strangely, touched when you called him adorable, although I could tell he was trying to hide it. :D I think he would have liked you to call him Horribly Adorable, that way, it integrates evil-ness into the phrase :D Well, you all know how our Lucius is :D 


	19. My Quarters

Chapter 19  
  
I was ready to *murder* Peter once we'd gotten off the pitch. As murder was illegal by law (unfortunately), I did the next best thing. I glared. I know, I know, a punch would have been much more suitable. But as a rule, I didn't like hitting my fellow Slytherins. House unity, and all that.  
  
However, Peter, despite being smarter than Crabbe and Goyle, seemed to have Dragon's hide for skin. He didn't even notice. My temper, already nearing boiling point, climbed a notch higher.  
  
"What the *hell* were you playing at?" The smug grin he'd worn on his face disappeared instantly at the sound of my voice.  
  
"What?" I moved forward. The look in my eyes must have terrified him because he took a step back.  
  
"You know *bloody well* what I'm talking about. The jinx. On Potter."  
  
"You said--" I raised a hand, and he stopped. The boy looked ready to wet himself, I noted almost gleefully. What could I say? It pleased me to know I still had *the effect* on people.  
  
"*I* said? You're trying to put the blame on *me*? You know the rules Peter. What *I* said had *nothing* to do with breaking them. Just because you turned into a blubbering, blundering *idiot*, who was completely *incapable* of hitting a bludger, that didn't mean you had to DISOBEY *DIRECT* ORDERS." Peter was my friend, but what he'd done was wrong, even in *my* book. He'd made Slytherins look like a horde of cheating bastards.  
  
"You never--" My eyes blazed as he said this and he stopped.  
  
"I never said not to break the rules?" My voice was dangerously soft. "Yes, hmm, I believe I *never said* that during the team orientation. Especially when I *stressed* the importance of rules, for a game's outcome, and for the team's honor, and dignity." I dripped sarcasm. "Remember that next time, Peter. If there *is* a next time."  
  
As I left the room, I heard him mutter, "What's it to you, anyway?" I didn't answer. I'd been asking that question myself.  
  
~* ~ *~ *~ *~ * ~* ~*~ * ~*~ * ~*  
  
Hazy yellow light obscured the dull green walls of the Slytherin common room and a strong, putrid smell (unadulterated butterbeer was, believe it or not, 78% pure alcohol) was thick in the air. I was at the Slytherin Victory Party. As a player, and the team Captain at that, I was treated like a god, given more food, more drink, and, of course, more women.  
  
Normally, I would have been overjoyed at that prospect, secretly enjoying it while I pretended to be dissatisfied. It was typical, Malfoy tradition to do that. However, this was not a night of typical Malfoy tradition. It was definitely *not* typical Malfoy tradition to get jealous.  
  
Malfoys were the *envy* of one and all. We *envied* no one, preferring it the other way around.  
  
But, try as I might, I couldn't get rid of that nagging feeling I had, chewing at my triumph.  
  
We had won the match; we had won the cup (not literally, but practically; as I mentioned, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were hardly considered worthy opponents). But, instead of congratulating me, Lily was at the hospital wing, making sure *dear* James was all right. She'd asked, earlier, if it was all right with me. Oh, I was *all right* of course. *All right* to leave the *man* you were supposed to be in love with, and nurse back to health the *boy* you'd secretly been pining after for years. Maybe I hadn't put it *that* eloquently, no, instead I'd shrugged and tried to hide my disappointment.  
  
What was I thinking? Of course Lily wouldn't do that to me. She didn't have a single, *mean* bone in her beautiful little body.  
  
But why had she been so eager to go to James? And what was taking her so long? A nice little snog to make sure Potter got better sooner? Maybe they were even doing it right now-  
  
I'd had enough of this nonsense. If I wanted to know so badly, I'd go see her myself.  
  
I pushed someone named Bindy or Bimbi off my lap (I hadn't even known she was there) and strode over to the door purposefully. If Lily didn't want me, well, I didn't want her either. That might have been a blatant lie, but hey, I was a good liar.  
  
My trip to the hospital wing was cut short, however, when I bumped into someone. A particular, red-headed-lady someone. Yes, Lily. I opened my mouth, ready to pour out the jumble of indictments accumulated in my mind. This was completely useless, because the instant she smiled at me, I forgot everything. Every jealous thought, every single accusation.  
  
"Lucius!" She ran over to hug me, and I was rendered temporarily immobilized. Lily had a special way of hugging that made you feel. . . *needed*; that made you feel *loved*. Loved? Since when had I-"Sorry it took me so long to get here, Madame Pomfrey was at a meeting, and she needed someone to watch James; you know, make sure he didn't move too much while his bone was setting." She smiled, and the look on her face made me feel like a total prat for even *thinking* she was. . . er. . . *adulterous*.  
  
"It's okay," I mumbled into her flower scented hair, before leaning down to kiss her rather thoroughly. "Let's go to my room." I felt her frown against me, and she pulled away. I smirked. "We're just going to talk, I'm not going to--"  
  
"But we have to pass the Slytherin common room--" Putting a finger to her lips, I smiled.  
  
"Secret passages."  
  
Why on earth, you ask, would I have my own room? Wasn't I already sharing one with Severus? The one I shared with him was what I called 'My Sleeping Quarters'. I only stayed in the other dormitory with him because the teachers often checked to see if we were in our assigned places.  
  
Technically, I wasn't supposed to *have* my own room, only Head Boys had them. But it was the unspoken *rule* of Prefect-hood to take the room reserved for the head boy *when* the head boy wasn't in your house. So, naturally, as Niles Longbottom, the Gryffindor, was Head Boy, I occupied the Slytherin's Head Boy room.  
  
I *was* a prefect, you know. No, I didn't often act like one, and I abhorred wearing that ridiculous badge, but, believe it or not, I was. . "Well? My room then?" She nodded, and I took her hand, leading her deeper into the dungeons.  
  
She tightened her grip on my hand as the hallway grew dimmer and colder. Not that I minded, in the very least.  
  
I stopped when I reached a particularly bright green wall. Unlike the rest, this wall wasn't green with slime, it was green with a Lotarsium charm, a charm that blended in with its surroundings but glowed when the wizard who cast the spell neared.  
  
I muttered Kopteinius, and the wall split open. I (always the gentleman), gestured for her to go inside first, before me.  
  
She was looking around in amazement and I allowed myself a satisfied grin. My room was perfect, after all, I'd designed it myself. The house-elves had come a month before school started to ready the room for their master. Then, of course, I'd added personal effects to it (the wintergreen wall hanging with silver snakes stitched on, bewitched to writhe magically, for example). She trailed her fingers across my collection of Dark Arts books.  
  
"You *do* like scary books, don't you." She murmured, almost to herself.  
  
"And if I do?" I'd come up behind her, my arms wrapped around her waist. For some strange, unexplainable reason, I couldn't stop smelling her hair tonight. She was addictive. She turned around and gave me a small peck on the cheek.  
  
"Oh, nothing, I talk to myself all the time." She hesitated momentarily, before asking, "Do you. . . *practice* any of these?" I felt myself stiffen. She was a Gryffindor, of course she wouldn't take the Dark Arts as lightly as we Slytherins did. What had I been thinking, bringing her into my room like that? I'd *never* brought anyone to my room. To my other room, yes, but *never* to this one. It was my private space, my sanctuary. But somehow, it had just *felt* right, with her.  
  
"I might." I was using my silky, convincing voice. I didn't want to let her know I was getting uncomfortable.  
  
"Do you *never* give straight answers?" She arched an eyebrow in what could have been annoyance. She knew me too well.  
  
"No, I don't." Unfortunately, I'd reverted to my sulky-boy mood. She had the tendency to make me do that, whenever she'd managed to read my mind (which, I might add, was a rather common occurrence).  
  
"Just--" She stopped, and her voice softened a fraction, "be careful, okay? The Dark Arts are dangerous enough with grown wizards trying them, and I don't want you to be hurt." My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest. In normal, muggle terms, you could say it skipped a beat. She cared for me? She might have been my girlfriend, and she might have *acted* like she cared for me, but acting, and actually saying, were two completely different things.  
  
"Lily," I said, trying to sound reassuring, "I've been practicing this since I started Hogwarts. I've been taught *how* to practice this since I could learn to speak. I'll be all right." She turned to me.  
  
"You only practice the Dark Arts when you intend to use them. You *are* going to use them, aren't you? Against people, against--" I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Of course it would come to this. Lily was *good*, almost *too* good for my liking. But Lily was. . . she was. . . Lily.  
  
"You might make me feel different inside, but you can't change who I am completely. I've been raised to do this, and now, I do this because I want to, not because I have to."  
  
I made my own decisions. I *make* my own decisions. I chose to become a Death Eater out of my own free will, certainly not because my *father* ordered me.  
  
"I know." It was a whisper, resigned and tinted with sadness. Had I made her this sad? The Dark Arts were a part of me. But then again, so was she.  
  
"I'm sorry, but that's who I am. I can't change."  
  
"Anyone can change." I looked into her eyes.  
  
"I'm not anyone, Lily. I'm Lucius. And I don't change."  
  
I did.  
  
It might have been temporary, and short, but I did change. For her. She made me different.  
  
"Do you *want* me to change? You don't *like* me the way I am?" I asked softly.  
  
"I love you the way you are, Lucius. And that's what worries me most." My breath caught in my throat, when she'd said 'I love you the way you are'. It had sounded so close to 'I love you'. Too close.  
  
She moved towards me and tip-toed to wrap her arms around my neck in a hug. Not wanting the hug to end, *ever*, I swept her off her feet, both literally and figuratively, from the gasp she gave. She felt so light and soft; it was hard not to think of feathers. I set her down gingerly, and, like an expensive porcelain doll, arranged her arms and legs. She giggled, as I joined her on the carpeted floor.  
  
"We've talked too much about me, tell me about yourself. I hardly know you." It was a miracle I'd actually managed to get those words out right; I was very much entranced by the way the light settled around her, much like it had that night we'd flown together.  
  
"Well, my parents are muggles. My father used to do business, and my mother's an artist. I have a sister, Petunia."  
  
"He *used to* do business? What does he do now?" I saw her take a shaky, indrawn breath.  
  
"He's sick. Very sick. He can't work."  
  
"Take him to St. Mungo's, I'm sure they can--" She smiled a little.  
  
"No, the healing they have there only works for wizards. It would only hurt him, if they tried." She wouldn't want to be talking about this right now. A different subject, maybe? Ah, yes, her sister.  
  
"What about Petunia? Does she go to. . . muggle school?" I said, unsure of what muggles called their higher institutions of learning.  
  
"She's just a year older than me, but I think I act much older than she does. She's about to graduate secondary school this year."  
  
"So you miss her?" I was curious about this, never really having had siblings of my own.  
  
"I did. But. . . sometimes, she acts as if she doesn't like me anymore. Like I'm not her sister; like I'm not even human. We used to be really close. But, now, she doesn't talk to me. She ignores me completely, and when she *does* say anything, it's always something mean about me." Her own sister didn't accept her? For a brief instant, I almost felt what she'd felt. Not accepted by her own blood, not accepted by wizards.  
  
"And there you are, caught in between, like you don't belong." She nodded, and looked up at me with her iridescent green eyes.  
  
"But I feel like. . . maybe I *do* have a place here. You make me feel. . ." She didn't continue, instead taking my hand and gently twining her fingers into mine. I understood, and answered by squeezing back tenderly.  
  
Our conversation continued long into the night, and, inevitably, she drifted off to sleep during one of our prolonged silences. Careful not to wake her up, I carried her to my bed, only too aware of how she felt in my arms. A strange feeling came over me as I tucked the blankets around her. It was only then that I realized it. This had been the first time I'd thought of someone's needs above my own. Had she been any other girl, I would have left her on the floor, and slept on the bed. But I couldn't imagine doing to that to her. She was Lily.  
  
As quietly as possible, I summoned a mattress into the room, blew out the candles, and went to sleep.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: Waah!!! : ( I swear I'm the only one who doesn't have order of the phoenix!!! *sob* my uncle promised it, and he's in Scotland, so it's going to take a while to get here. A very *long* while, since he'll be reading it too. *sigh* Lucius says he can't understand *why* everyone's making such a big deal about OotP. He wonders *why* anyone would want to know *anything* about a wretched little boy with bad hair. *smiles* that's Lucius for ya. :D  
  
chapter 20's done!! So, *cough* *cough* reviews, anyone?? :D  
  
Chelli-*evil smile* yes, Lucius *did* get incredibly jealous, didn't he? *hehehe* Yes, that Quidditch scene was *very* hard to write :D I had an immense load of writer's block weighing down horribly on my mind, added to schoolwork. . . but luckily, my friend helped me and so 'voila!' chapter 18 appeared :D  
  
Addy-Hope you like this chapter! :D As promised, the next one is *really* *really* PURE Lucius fluff! I can't bring myself to say *fluff* because it just isn't right, with Lucius :D *sob* you have ORDER OF THE PHOENIX!!  
  
Neni- :D Hope you're feeling better :D Yes, Lucius *was* very mean about your last name ("Lucius, you bad boy!"*he'd kill me for calling him a boy*) but I think it sounds cool :D Ooh, wonder *which* guy you're talking about? *hmm* *mischievous smile* 


	20. Alone Together, by the Forest

Chapter 20 

Time passed quickly. It always seems to, when you're happy. I'd grown even closer to Lily and life seemed. . . well, life seemed nice. It hadn't seemed like that, for a long time.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend and so, the castle had been emptied, with the unfortunate exception of the first and second years. And, of course, us: Me, and Lily. I don't know why, but I liked the sound of it. Us. 

 We had wandered somewhere beyond the Forbidden Forest, before setting up our little 'picnic' (presumably a muggle term, as I have never heard of it). My invisibility cloak was being used as the 'picnic blanket' since the ground was already coated with a bit of frost. 

We were certainly the odd couple, with her dressed head to toe in scarlet and gold, and I, in my green and silver Slytherin attire. She must have noticed me, looking at her like that, because she turned around and asked, "What's wrong?" I laughed, and stood up.

"Your clothes, that's what's wrong." As I said this, I toyed with her little Gryffindor jumper and tie.

"My clothes?"

"They're too. . . Gryffindor." I began pacing around her, much like a teacher would to an ill-disciplined student.

"Oh, really, how revolting." Her sarcasm was all but lost on me. 

"Exactly! And I've the perfect solution for this horrifying dilemma." I was behind her now, whispering into her ear.

"You do now, do you?" Her voice broke a little as I nuzzled her neck, enjoying the smell of her. Her scent today was a blend of flowers and fruits and soap, a mixture more intoxicating than any perfume could ever be.

"I do. Something for you." She turned around, her mask of suspicion on her face, before it softened and she smiled. 

"For me?" I was still marveling at how she could remain so beautiful with that scrunched up expression when anyone else would have looked like a pug. "No hexed flowers?" I shook my head, seemingly appalled at such a suggestion. The bundle levitated in front of her. 

"Open it." I urged gently. Another smile, before she removed the wrappings and ribbons, revealing a striped, green and silver scarf.

"_Your_ house colors? Lucius I'm a Gryffindor--"

"The sorting hat must have made a horrible mistake then. The green in that scarf brings out your eyes." I was trying desperately to keep my head clear; her smile alone was enough to cloud my thoughts. 

She tried the scarf on, suddenly aware of the bright silver stitching glowing conspicuously at the front. "Property of Lucius Malfoy?" She read out loud. "You're giving me your old scarf?" 

"It's brand new. Straight from Hogsmeade." Understanding dawned on her face, along with mock anger and outrage. 

"Lucius Malfoy, you're almost unbearable!" She hit my arm with the scarf. "You don't own me--" Before she could continue her little tirade against me and my arrogance, I leaned over, and gave her a deep kiss.

What could have been a nice little snogging session was interrupted, however, by a loud bump. I wouldn't have minded, after all, there _were_ enough magical creatures wandering about to cause loud thumps. Lily, however, pulled away, her eyes wide with fear. 

"Annoying pests, Lily, nothing more." She shook her head, and put a finger to her lips as a sign of silence. 

"It could be someone. We weren't the only ones who stayed behind at the castle, Lucius." Ah, she was concerned with the secrecy of our. . . relationship. Well, so was I. Concerned enough, in fact, to cast a Borderline Spell. That spell was sufficient to assure our privacy, and I told her so. She relaxed visibly. "What kind of creatures were you talking about?" I shouldn't have said anything about magical creatures; now she was too curious to return to our earlier. . .er. . . activities.

"The occasional on-the-run house elf, pixies, nymphs—" I leaned back on the cloak, outwardly bored. Inwardly was a different matter. A plot worthy of a Malfoy was forming in my head.

"Nymphs? I read somewhere that you can see a few wood nymphs here, if you're lucky," She was saying, whilst scouting around the perimeter of our little enclosure for the fabled creature. 

"I see one!" I shouted, _most enthusiastically_ for a Slytherin. You see, I was being enthusiastic for a reason. A reason which shall be revealed to you soon enough.

"Really? Where?" She started turned around to look at me, lost in her excitement. I pointed at some distant spot in the forest. "Where? I didn't see it, how does it look like?"  

She was tiptoeing and peering into the forest, squinting and trying to see what I'd been talking about. 

Bwahaha. The perfectly unsuspecting target. Good people were too easily fooled. Struggling to keep my laughter in, I crept slowly towards her.

"Honestly, I can't see a thing, do you think it's---" She turned around just in time to let out a shriek as I pounced on her and attacked her sides, tickling with no mercy. Her laughter was like a drug, and I, the unfortunate addict. 

"Stop, I can't--" another burst of laughter, before she continued, "Please--" When I said I tickled with no mercy, I meant it. 

"Not until you say: 'Lucius is the most scrumptious looking man I've ever seen, and I desperately need to snog him'." 

"I'm not going to--" a squeal of laughter  "say that, I--" I tickled relentlessly. Her cheeks had turned a lovely shade of pink. I _would_ have to stop eventually, but she would give in soon, I could tell-- "Lucius is the most scrumptious looking man I've ever seen and I desperately need to snog him!" I stopped, and smirked triumphantly. 

"Not hard at all, hmm? So, how about that snog?" The suggestive tone of my voice could not be missed.

"Malfoy" She warned, saying my last name for the first time and still gasping for breath (somehow, this reminded me of hearing a priest _swear_. . . it just didn't sound right).. "You are going to PAY FOR THIS!" With that, she lunged towards me, ready to kill (or so it seemed). What happened next was a long and arduous chase, which involved quite a bit of running and cursing (all in good fun, of course) from both sides, and ended in a tangle of limbs at the bottom of a hill. Both Lily and I were exhausted, and, for a while, we were content to just lie down there and breathe.

If you were to ask me today what was the most perfect moment of my entire life, I would say it was that particular instant. My mind had been pleasantly empty of any disturbing thoughts. I still remember the feel of her beside me, even though we hadn't been touching. Her presence was calming, and I can quite honestly say I miss it. I miss her. But I mustn't dwell on such incongruities. Life can be harsh and cruel. 

And so can I. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Chapter 21's going to take a bit longer, since it's still in the making :D the fluffy chapters are all separated though, so don't expect the next one to be all fluffy :D it's a bit. . . well, it's got something to do with the 'dark side'. . . ooh. . .  

And all of you, THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING!! I know I can't stop saying this, but it's true ;D I was breathless and speechless for a while when that little thing on MSN said I had 16 new messages. . . :D

Dwen—thanks for reviewing! *sigh* I understand, everyone keeps coming up to me, and they say 'wanna know who died?' and I usually run away screaming with my hands over my ears. Evil people!!! I don't know *how* long I'll be waiting until I get to read the fifth book. . .  not *too* long, I hope : (  Believe it or not, Lucius is even *more* human here :D well, the mischief stays, as usual. . . a bit more fluff to come, but the next chapters will be a little. . . sadder, I think :D Bwahahaha, I know, I absolutely ruined this chapter's fluffiness with that last paragraph. . . Poor Lucius :D 

Diabla666—Trust me, that Malfoy charm gets everyone :D Thanks for reviewing! :D

Sarah—thanks for reviewing! I heard Lucius is even *more* devilishly evil (but handsome, always handsome, hehehe) in OotP. . . I can't wait to read it! :D

Lovely Lily—well, you know Lucius :D I should scold him for being so. . . *evil* the next time he decides to pay me a visit. But then he's so *wonderfully* evil! Like Lily (the one in the story :D) I can't help but love him. :D Thanks for reviewing!

Ecilla—thank you thank you thank you!! :D Hope I didn't make you wait too long, I was 'proofing' this chapter, and you know how school is :D Thanks for reviewing!

Addy—This is the fluffiest Lucius chapter I have, unless I decide to write that muggles day out--- *gasp* I've said too much. :D I read a part in the earlier portions of the story, and he put her needs before his too! :D But I don't think he noticed, at the time, you know how Lucius is, with all his self denial :D

Neni Potter—yes, circumstances *definitely* changed Lucius. And of *course* he's full of himself! :D he wouldn't be lucius if he wasn't. :D Hmm, I'll think about he Draco/Ginny thing :D I just read a fic on fiction alley about them, and it was really sweet :D

Abigail Nicole— thank you for your help with the italicized words! :D Hehehe, I'd almost given up all hope for that :D And yes, you're right, Lucius is *incredibly* self-conscious about his evilness. He's quite proud of it, actually (*whisper* he told me :D) I know this chapter took a while, but that was because internet was *soooo* horribly slow. Hmph, I hate dial-up. :D Your rather urgent e-mail message prompted me to post this chapter now (7:00 AM) :D 

Naeginnie6— thank you! :D And thanks for reviewing too :D Lucius really just writes himself, it's a proven fact J I was rereading some chapters earlier, and I was shocked, because I hardly remembered typing those things down! Must be the Imperius. . .  hehehe, not that I mind! :D I'll be sure to submit this story in your site :D Thanks for the help with the italicized words too! :D 

Erenriel the Elven Canuck—Go Canucks!!! *cough cough* It's the Canadian coming out in me ;D Thanks for reviewing! :D I know what you mean, Lucius *does* have this freaky way of commanding people to do things (like write his life story, for example, hehehe)


	21. In the Classroom

**Chapter 21**

She kept that scarf, and she wore it too (although she'd somehow managed to invert it, so the stitches didn't show). She really _was_ too clever for her own good. 

It was late November, and, as we would soon be taking our NEWTS, the teachers seemed to be drowning us in homework. Of course, being the inhumanly smart wizard I was, I had no problem. Well, not exactly. _One_ problem.

Defense Against the Dark Arts.

I know, I can almost see your eyes popping out of your heads. Me? Lucius _Malfoy_? Lucius Malfoy, problems, and dark arts did _not_ fit in the same sentence. 

I'd been doing perfectly well in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Or so I thought. Until that fool of a teacher, Garednon, called me after class. 

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, rubbing his arms in that dreadfully irritating manner. "I'm afraid you will have to come for remedial Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. You seem to be having trouble with the Impediment Jinx. Tonight, at seven then." He gave a little nod, as if _he_ had been the one receiving the instructions, before he made a gesture for me to leave. The impediment jinx? I'd mastered that at age twelve!

And there was something _else_ odd with that, wasn't there? Oh, don't tell me you haven't seen it yet. If _I_ was having problems with Defense Against the Dark Arts, what of Crabbe and Goyle? They would have failed, surely. But, to my further infuriation, I found out that they _hadn't_ been called by Garednon. _I_ had been the only one.

And, even worse, I was supposed to meet Lily that night. 

Damn that bloody professor. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"It's okay Lucius, really. OWLS are getting to me too." She gave me a tired smile, and patted my arm. I stood there, taken aback. She actually _believed_ Garednon? There was absolutely _nothing_ wrong with my Impediment Jinx! Nothing! Just as I opened my mouth to speak, she continued, "Besides, I'm sure he made a mistake. It might be Crabbe, or Goyle." I let out a relieved sigh. Of course. Garednon _was_ stupid enough to confuse the three of us. That must have taken a great deal of stupidity, though, to confuse a Malfoy for a Crabbe or a Goyle. 

"Yes, of _course_ it's just a mistake. The Impediment Jinx is simple." I said, to reassure myself as much as her. 

"It's nearly seven, you'd better get going then. Wouldn't want you to be late." She leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek, before disappearing around the corner. 

"Watch who you make friends with, Lucius," came a voice from behind me. I whipped around, only to see nothing. "You wouldn't want mudbloods tarnishing your reputation, now would you? The Great Lord has plans for you." 

"The Great Lord? I don't know who you're talking about. Show yourself." I refused to acknowledge the sudden fear and jumpiness I felt. It would be ridiculous to, as the person was most likely wearing an invisibility cloak. Or using an Invisibility Potion. And that voice. Who did it belong to? It sounded hauntingly familiar. . .  

"I've been watching you, Lucius. Honestly, I don't know _what_ he sees in you. Maybe it's your money. Or you hatred for mudbloods. But you don't hate them any more, do you? Not since—" I reached forward, and seized an invisible arm. This hadn't just been a stroke of luck on my part; I'd been standing still, and listening to the voice ever since it had started speaking. I could tell it was pacing around me. If that was the arm, then the head was there—

"GAREDNON?" I couldn't hide my surprise as I pushed off the cloak's hood.    

"Quiet, _boy_. And that's _Professor_ Garednon to you." He pulled the cloak back above his head.

"What are you—"

"I thought you were smart. However, that may have been an overestimation on my part. Speak no more until we reach the classroom." 

I walked ahead stiffly. I hated being interrupted, and, even more, being ordered. Who did that bastard think he was? _No one_ ordered Malfoys around. 

But here I was, _listening_ to him? Then again, I reasoned, I was a prefect. It wouldn't do to disobey teachers, stupid though they were. 

I entered the now-dark classroom, and, after a few moments, the door clicked shut behind me. Garednon removed his cloak, and leaned back on the table, observing me. Bastard. 

"What? I take it you didn't _call_ me for remedial Defense Against the Dark Arts." 

"No, I didn't." He continued to look at me, like a specimen. Let's just say I didn't _relish_ being looked at like that. _I_ was the one who was supposed to do that.

"Then what did you bring me here for?" 

"Have you ever heard of Lord Voldemort, Lucius?" Typical. A question for a question.

"The genius responsible for all those muggle killings recently?" I said coolly.

"Yes, he is. Actually, I'm quite surprised you think of him as a genius. Most would call him eccentric, others would go so far as to call him mad. But, yes, he _is_ a genius."

"What's your point?" My patience was running thin. Garednon seemed to sense this, and his lips curled into a thin smile.   
  


"He's gaining followers now, you know." 

"And?"

"He'll take over the wizarding world." I raised an eyebrow. The wizarding world was still convalescing from Grindelwald, it wouldn't be able to take another one like him so early in its recovery.

"That wouldn't be too hard to do. Followers, loyal ones, of course, a great deal of money, and a worthy cause." I shrugged this all off. It was true. If my father chose to do so, _he_ could have 'taken over' the world right now, so to speak. Unfortunately, he was inclined otherwise.

"The Great Lord has enough of that. But he wants to take the Wizarding World at the height of its power. Many don't believe he exists yet, simply because they don't wish to. They believe muggles are dying more, every day, from wars. Can you imagine it? Muggles aren't smart enough to start wars. Or, ones worth fighting, anyway. The Ministry of Magic is too focused on rebuilding our world, restoring it to its former glory. They believe My Lord is a _petty annoyance._ They will pay."

"Is this supposed to have something to do with me?"

"I've already answered your question, Lucius. He's gaining followers. Some follow them, because they have to, some because they want to. You are being _chosen_ by Lord Voldemort, Lucius. Do you understand that? Chosen?" 

"Why? There are plenty of others—"

"The only one that shows the smallest bit of promise would be Severus. Bellatrix as well, I suppose. But they're too young. They don't understand. But you do. You are well versed in the Dark Arts. You hate muggles, mudbloods," he paused at this, and looked at me to see if I reacted. I kept my expression as stoic as possible. "You are very similar to Lord Voldemort, in many ways. With the proper training, you could—" He winced in pain and rubbed his forearm furiously. "My Lord calls. I must leave you. Make your decision, Lucius. Soon." He fumbled for something in his robes, and disappeared.

A portkey, obviously. Anyone who bothered to read _Hogwarts_: _A_ _History _knew that disapparation and apparation was all but impossible here.

So, Lord Voldemort wanted me to join his little group? 

Unconsciously, a smirk formed on my lips. 

We would see. We would see.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**A/N**: I just noticed how much Lucius sounded like Hermione. . . . 'Anyone who bothered to read _Hogwarts_: _A_ _History _knew that disapparation and apparation was all but impossible here.' Well, he's as smart as _she is, anyway :D And yes, I finally read OotP!! Well, no, I didn't get the book, I had to download it L And so I spent 10 hours in front of the computer, destroying my already destroyed eyes. Oh well, certain sacrifices have to be made ;D *shouts out* I STILL LOVE YOU LUCIUS!!! He __was such a bad boy, wasn't he? :D  The book got me quite annoyed at James though, he was so mean to Severus!!! *sob* Poor, poor, Severus. . ._

**Nan/Dwen**—Glad you liked the chapter! ;D Nanneline sounds like a cool Pen name. But if you're looking for the faerie nymph elf effect, Dwen is more faerie nymph elfish. Okay, that was a _very_ very strange sentence. School has fried my brain, and left it out to dry. *sob* Ignore me :D

**Emily**—Thanks for reviewing! I'm touched you found it so exciting :D It'll take a while to really _finish_ it, plus I'll be working on the sequel too, so just expect random posts ;D But I post at _least_ twice a week, unless I have a really bad case of writer's block, or midterms has reared its ugly head. :D

**Ecilla**—yes, I hate school, I hate it I hate it!! L I've been telling Lucius to hex those teachers for a while now, but he still won't. He says school helps me with grammar, which will, inevitably, produce a nicer biography (_his_, of course, who else's? :D). Humph. Talk about self-centered (I STILL LOVE YOU LUCIUS!) :D  

**Erenriel**—fluff, or semi-fluff, is always the best ;D Ah, don't worry, Elves have an annoying habit of looking nice in everything (even bucket hats and flip-flops :D) Unfortunately, I'm a particularly short hobbit, so I can only stick to. . . well, I can only stick to whatever it is hobbits wear :D

**Sarah**—sure you can put something about Lucius and Lily in your story! :D Tell me when you write your fic, then I'll read it ;D I read any fic that mentions Lucius/Lily ;D Thanks for reviewing :D 


	22. Pensieves and Picnic Spots

**Chapter 22**

You know what I loved doing most with Lily? No, it wasn't shagging her senseless (never got the chance to do that, sad to say). It was _being_ with her. Telling her my thoughts. 

We were on another of our secret, Sunday morning rendezvous. I stood there, feeling rather guilty about the whole 'Lord Voldemort' subject. She didn't know. I reasoned that what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Of course it wouldn't. Besides, I hadn't _really_ decided yet. But three days of indecision was enough to make me a little on the haggard side (_just_ a little, Malfoys were never _really_ haggard). She could tell something was bothering me. And, somehow, she knew it wasn't the NEWTS I would be taking soon. 

"What's on your mind, Lucius?" I turned to her, jolted out of my thoughts. It was then I realized that we had been sitting there, in complete silence, for nearly ten minutes. 

"A lot of things. I need to get a Pensieve." I smiled half-heartedly, stifling a yawn. I'd found it difficult to sleep lately, being plagued by my ever-annoying conscience, and, being too proud to ask Severus to brew me a potion, I suffered greatly. 

She was sitting on her cloak, her legs tucked beneath her. A strange force prompted me to move towards her, and I did, laying my head down on her lap. She looked surprised, for a moment. _Only_ a moment.

"Here, I'll be your Pensieve." She laughed, playing with a strand of my pale blonde hair. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What exactly _do_ Pensieves do?" 

"They help you 'arrange' your jumbled thoughts." I whispered back, feeling like a theatre actor who reminded the actress about her forgotten lines (Yes, wizards _do_ have theatre, only they've got the concept down much better than muggles have). 

"Ah," her voice became normal again, "Well, Mr. Malfoy, I regret to inform your mind seems to be. . . _empty _of any thought. I _do believe a house elf thinks much more than you do!" It was a feeble attempt to throw off the strange awkwardness we were feeling, but I laughed anyway. The world might change, and I might change, but, I thought, Lily would always be Lily. If only she knew how much I _was_ thinking. If only she knew __what I was thinking about. _

But I couldn't tell her. How could I? _'You know, Lily, I've decided to join this anti-muggle cause. You don't mind, do you? I'll try not to accidentally kill your parents, or that wretched sister of yours. And I'll make sure you have my protection; we won't kill you like we kill all the other mudbloods out there. Don't worry, you'll be all right.' _I could just imagine it, right down to the slap on the face I would undoubtedly receive. No, it was best to keep her in the dark about this. She was a Gryffindor; I'd seen how she'd reacted with my Dark Arts books. This would be even worse.

Despite all the thoughts going through my head, I felt. . . calm. Or, at least, calmer than I'd been in a while.

I think it was having her beside me.

I'd always considered my time with Lily as my 'unwinding time'. She was so _nice to be with, and her presence relaxed me. I loved the sound of her breathing. Lying there, on her lap, I could almost feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her heart, I knew, was beating steadily there. Her heart._

Muggle science is the closest, and farthest, thing from magic. Closest because, occasionally, it tends to delve into sorcery, and potions, without knowing it. Farthest because it often _ruins_ magic by making false imitations. I knew, from my Muggle Studies Class (I only took it to learn more about them; it's complete idiocy to hate things you know nothing about), about what they believed made us _alive_. Blood, circulating through our veins, energy, so on, and so forth. Their ideas, I'm sad to admit, are not far removed from what St. Mungo researchers believe. 

It became unbearable, at that moment, to believe so _little was keeping Lily alive. Of course the same thing was keeping __me alive, but it was different, somehow. What if her heart decided to stop beating? What if. . ._

I could no longer imagine how life would seem without her there. She was my refuge, my hiding place, where I could let down my guard. Life without her would seem. . . empty. Gray. Cold. 

As an attempt to convince myself that she was still there, that she was still living, that she was still _whole_, I sat up quickly and reached for her hand. It was warm, and soft; it always was. 

"I think _I should be your Pensieve, you look like you have a lot on __your mind than I do." I said, my voice strangely hoarse. The image of her cold, lifeless body was still fresh in my mind. _

"I do." She smiled up at me from her position on my lap. I smiled back, and, following her previous proceedings, toyed with a strand of her cinnamon colored hair. "What do you see?" 

"Hmm. . . you're _desperately in love with an unbelievably handsome person who just happens to have silvery blonde hair and gray eyes." She giggled. "Wait. . . I see more. . . it's. . . his name is Lucius Malfoy. Am I correct?" _

"That wasn't exactly _on_ my mind, but I now that I think about it. . ." 

"Aha, it's Potter, isn't it?" I pounced on the opportunity.

"What?" She looked confused, but I continued doggedly.

"You have a secret _crush on Potter! You _fancy_ him!" I was just teasing, of course (I admit, it's something one wouldn't usually __tease one's girlfriend with, but I'd wanted to know this for a while)._

"I do _not!_" But she was blushing. . . did she _really have a thing for Potter? _

"Really?" I know I really _was_ being quite wicked, but I just _had to know. "Gryffindor's Honor?" _

"Lily _Evans' honor." She held up a hand. "Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." _

That must have been one of her strange, muggle expressions. Rather interesting though, isn't it? That muggles are so barbaric they find it imperative to swear upon violence? 

Once again, I've deviated from my topic. Let me return to the story.

She looked hesitant, before she added, "We-ell, I _did, at some point. But", she hastily added, "he's been acting really. . . __queer."_

"Queer? Are you telling me Potter's _preferences_ have changed?" This was certainly something to laugh about. . .

"NO! I mean, he's been acting odd lately, ever since they've let him play replacement seeker during that match against Hufflepuff. He seems. . . I don't know, _arrogant, or something. I don't like to talk to him very much anymore. . . and I still remember--" she broke off, and I knew she was talking about the dream she'd had, of his death. _

I cracked a smile, to alleviate the heavy mood.

"Has your _Pensieve helped at all?" She nodded, sat up, and leaned against my shoulder. _

"It's helped a lot." 

"Are you going to _thank your Pensieve?" I said, suggestively, and almost hopefully. There was no harm in trying, was there?_

"Definitely." She leaned over, her lips inching closer and closer to mine. . . and, at the last instant, she changed course and gave me a chaste peck on the cheek.

How disappointing.

Obviously, _I'd have to initiate something a little more. . . acceptable. And I knew just the thing. _

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Notes:

 This chappie's a bit on the fluffy side, but as you can see, Lucius is more distracted. His 'brush with darkness' has taken him out of that dream-like state one often feels when one is in love, and it has shown him harsh reality. Those thoughts he had, about Lily dying? It's like he suddenly remembered how _dangerous_ it was to be a mudblood. He knows things can happen to her; bad things. And, he's determined to protect her, totally oblivious to the fact that he's contributing to the danger. That's Lucius for you. 

Thank Yous:

Erenriel—Canada Day sounded great! *sob* I wish I was there! *sob* I moved to the Philippines, and I'm missing Canada a lot. . . *sob* Well, pertaining to Lucius *sniffle* he _won't be a good guy! Why, Lucius, WHY???? *is snatched away by insanity*_

Nan/Dwen—It's just the beginning of the end on Lucius' part, but on Lily's part, it comes a bit later. *sob* Lucius!!! Don't!!! Be good!!! Please??? *sigh* he never listens to me. And look where that got him. Azkaban. *feels poke at her back* *turns around, excited.*

"Lucius??? Is that you???" 

"It is." *smirk* "Azkaban can't hold me for long; you know that." *smirks* "My lord is calling, I must leave. More plots against Toilet-Pot-Boy." *smirks* *disapparates*

Katherine—thanks for revieiwing, and I'm glad you liked the fic! :D It (death eater things, yuck)  _definitely affects the relationship. But, not yet :D I say, let them have their fun for a while. :D I don't have any other stories though, but, rest assured, this story will __certainly have a sequel. :D I'm not sure if it's going to be a Draco/Ginny one, like Neni suggested, or a Lily's POV one like I originally thought. :D _

Emily—I'm glad you like it! :D

Sarah—I read your fic, and it sounds really interesting ;D It sounds like a completely _Lucius thing to do, you know, provoking Harry with his and Lily's past. . . :D _

Neni—I can't remember the name of the author, but the title is Serphent's Bride; you can find it in the Astronomy Tower, I think. Either that, or Schnoogle. It's got a bit of R-rated stuff though, but it's not smutty ;D

Chelli—Yes, I've finally read it :D but my download, unfortunately, _didn't_ have chapter twenty-four. It just repeated 23, so I had to puzzle out what occlumencey was. I don't mind though, I'll be borrowing from my friend next week, so all shall be well with the world. :D I won't tell you _exactly_ what our dearest Lucius does, but let me tell you, he doesn't want to believe he was being changed by Lily. And he was _very_ disturbed, when Garednon was telling him about him 'not hating mudbloods any more'. Lucius likes control; he _lives_ off it, and, determined to convince himself that he is still in control, he makes one of the biggest mistakes of his life. About your second question. . . well, I can't say a thing about that ;D It'll spoil the experience. Don't worry, nothing bad happens _yet.              _Emphasis on the _yet_, but that'll probably be a long, LONG, time from now. :DMore fluff to come; it's a promise :D


	23. Power, Pain, and Nothing in Between

Chapter 23: Power, Pain, and Nothing in Between 

I knew what Lord Voldemort called his elite. He called them Death Eaters. Not many people knew this; not yet. Voldemort was still a small threat, compared to what the wizarding world had suffered. But I knew he wasn't. I recognized in him the same determination—the same _hatred_, I'd seen in Grindelwald. Voldemort would, like his predecessor, tear apart this world. He would kill muggles, and mudbloods. To achieve his goal, he would probably need the help of some of our more _neglected_ creatures. Giants. Maybe even Dementors. 

The question was, did I _want_ to join him? Did I _want_ to help him destroy this world? Was this _world_ worth destroying?

He would be gaining power. And, despite having great amounts of it at my disposal, I yearned for more. I _refused_ to spend my life wasting away like my father had. 

He could have done a great many things, had he chosen to. But he hadn't. He'd spent his money and wealth on futile causes. Oh, don't worry, he _was_ a Malfoy after all; those causes were definitely _not_ for the betterment of Wizarding society. Quite the opposite, in fact. My point was that the causes he so _fervently_ believed in were useless. Who _cared_ if house elves deserved to be incinerated in the manor's furnace for punishment? Believe it or not, he spent nearly a year and a half of his time, not to mention hundreds of thousands of galleons, just to get this bill approved by the Minister of Magic. 

Garednon had been directing particularly strange, pointed looks at me during Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. 

I looked straight back at him, unblinking. I wasn't _fazed by his Lord's proposal. A little uncertain, yes, but not intimidated. _

Malfoys were never easy to intimidate.

Lily, on the other hand, was busy with her OWLS, as I was, _supposedly, busy with my NEWTS. Of course, I wasn't. We spent time together as often as possible, but it wasn't as. . . pleasant as before. She was, by all means, the same. It was __I who had changed. Guilt would, continuously __and persistently, haunt me. Why hadn't I told her yet?_

I was seriously considering Lord Voldemort's offer, and I could no longer deny this fact; even to myself. Was I purposely leaving her out of such a large part in my life? 

It came to me, whilst I was thinking (wasn't I _always_ doing this?) that what she didn't know _would_ hurt her. It would hurt _us_. And I wanted to hurt her, and this relationship, least of all.  

I had to be honest with her. 

I would have to tell her. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

We were back on the Astronomy tower, where we had first kissed. 

She must have been taking perception lessons from Severus, because she knew something was wrong; she knew something was different. 

"Lily--" I said, the exact time she said,

"Lucius--" We both paused and gave identically nervous laughs (nervous? We had never been nervous around each other; not since we'd decided the kiss wasn't a 'casual' one). I, ever the gentleman, motioned for her to speak first. "Are—are you all right? You've been acting rather odd lately." She spoke, a little hesitantly.

"I'm all right--" I said, my lying instincts taking over for a moment. I took a deep breath. I had to tell the _truth_. She always did; why couldn't I? "No, I'm not all right. Lily. . . have you ever heard of Lord Voldemort before?" 

"I've read bits and pieces about him in the Daily Prophet, but that's pretty much all I know. Why? What about him?" My heart was beating faster and faster. Was telling the truth _this difficult? _

"He's—" _trying to recruit me for his Death Eater Army. "He's—" __TRYING TO RECRUIT ME! Why couldn't I __say it? "He's--" TRYING TO-- "He's a danger to mudbl—muggle-borns like you, Lily. You should be careful." _Why_ hadn't I told her? If __Voldemort was a danger to mudbloods, so was I. Only she didn't know. Was it possible that _I_ would be the one to kill her? It was; I knew it was. Highly possible. But I would do __everything in my power to help her. This led to a completely new train of thought._

Power.

Such a strong, five letter word, don't you think? 

If I had enough of this, I could protect her. 

Lily. 

This word, this _name, was even more important._

And I needed power to protect Lily. It would be useless, to stand there, as Voldemort cackled and performed the killing curse on her. What was I going to do? Jump in, to let him kill _me_, and after that, kill _her_? Avada Kedavra curses could _not be deflected. _

No; it would be better to _join_ Voldemort's forces, and _tell him not to hurt Lily. The higher I grew in his ranks, the more influence I would have over him. Joining him was for Lily's good, just as much as mine. _

But Lily would _hate me. Joining _him_ would mean joining in the ritual muggle-mudblood killing sessions he was sure to have. _

But then, she would be_ alive._

Again, I imagined the world without her. 

I couldn't. I didn't want to.

All right Voldemort, I'd made my decision.

I would be a Death Eater.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Author's Notes:**

NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! LUCIUS!!!!!!!!

*sob* How COULD YOU?!

*sob* *sniffle* What's done is done. But Lucius. . . *sob* *sob* *tries to write a coherent sentence without crying*

Well, you see, Lucius *sniff* wants to protect Lily. He's convinced himself that being a *shaky breath* _Death Eater_ is for her protection. He doesn't even realize the danger he's put her in. What if Voldemort didn't _want to have mudbloods associating with __his Death Eaters? That's a problem he only realizes later. *sigh* And now, even though he's placed Lily __above power, he still wants it. He's __Lucius, what would you expect? So, in other words, Lucius _wanted _ to be a death eater, until he found out that meant hurting Lily. But then he realized that, to protect her, he would have to hurt her. _

Read the chapter title, if you get confused. I know you might, I got confused myself (when Lucius was dictating it to me, hehehe) Or maybe I was just too *ahem* _distracted by his wonderful evil-ness. . . _

Chapter 24 is still in the making, and, due to my Chemistry Long Exam next Tuesday, it'll probably be a while before I upload it. Sorry! :D Maybe I should get Lucius to write it for me. . . hmm. . .

**Chelli**-- *smiles* sorry, but I had to leave the 'thing' to your imagination :D But, knowing hyperactive 18 year old boys, it must have had something to do with a lot of heavy snogging. Humph. Lucius wouldn't tell me. And, _according to him_, it took him a _week to get out of Azkaban because his master told him to wait, and suffer the price of failure. Yes, _according_ to him. *cough* *laugh* *cough*_

**Nan/Dwen**—enjoy your vacation! :D I got this chapter uploaded early for ya! :D Consider it a going away present. I hope it's uploaded early enough, anyway :D And, if not. . . well, consider it a welcome back present :D 

**Erenriel**—exactly the point :D The Philippines is _too warm; it's not only HOT, but HUMID as well; a terrifying combination :D Sadly, Lucius has already broken out of Azkaban. . . or maybe __you were the one that helped him! See, he thought it was his 'Lord Voldemort' but I think otherwise :D I shall have to tell him that his life story has touched more people than he thought :D_

**Sarah**—The story only gets darker and darker. . . and Lucius gets closer and closer to the one we read about in the books. *sigh* but we can't _help_ but love him . . . *sigh*


	24. Iole

**Chapter 24**

I think she knew, the instant I made my decision.

I _know_ she knew; if not specifically. She _knew_ something had happened; something had changed.

She'd been sitting on the edge, _again_ (despite my frequent protests, she assured me that the spells preventing falls _would_ hold, and so, I'd had to corner Professor Flitwick and interrogate him, just to be sure), swinging her legs with not a care in the world. 

The moment I'd decided, she stood up, abruptly, facing me. 

She looked worried.

"What's wrong, Lucius?" Trying unsuccessfully to ignore the guilt gnawing at my insides, I smoothed my features into the trademark Malfoy smirk.

"Nothing, really." 

She was silent for a moment, before she went back to the ledge. This time, she was not alone. I followed, sitting right behind her, my arms wrapped around her waist. 

I liked this position; our bodies seemed to fit together perfectly, like two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, as if we were made for each other. Then again, I thought smugly, we probably were. _Probably_.

I wouldn't have to rely on a few _charms_ to stop her from falling; I was here, and I would never allow harm to befall her.

Lily sighed, as she settled back into my embrace. 

"Tell me about yourself, Lucius. _I_ always end up being the one to talk; it's your turn." 

I, being much too busy burying myself in the scent of her hair, took quite a while to respond.

"What do you want to know?" My voice was huskier than I thought it would be, and I cleared my throat to shake off this odd sensation.

"Anything." 

"Hmm. . . my _full_ name is Lucius Lycorus Malfoy." She gave a small giggle. I arched an eyebrow.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" 

"It rhymes, you know. Luc_ius_ Lycor_us_. . . maybe you should change your name. Malf_us_ sounds a bit too funny though, doesn't it?" I gave her a mock glare, and she giggled some more. 

"Well, my dear _Giggly Gryffindor Girl_, my mother is Medora Veǐane Malfoy, and my father is Byron Malfoy." She seemed a little surprised at his lack of middle name. 

"What does. . . Lycorus mean? In your name?" 

"Twilight. Darkness. We're Malfoys, Lily, what would you expect?" 

"Oh, I never know what to expect with _you_." She said this meaningfully, and I felt a twinge of guilt; she sure as hell wouldn't have expected _me_ joining the Death Eaters. Or maybe she did. She was a smart woman, after all. "Do _you_ have any brothers? Sisters?" 

"I had a twin sister. Iole. She died when she was four." If I thought hard enough, I could still remember her. My father never cared much for her (then again, he never cared much for me either, and I was his _heir_), probably because she didn't _look_ like a Malfoy. Her hair had been dark brown, and her eyes. . . they'd been green. Like Lily's. 

"You had a _twin_?"

"Well, I don't remember her much. I can't even remember how she looks like," I lied. I didn't want to dredge up any unwelcome memories. The present was bad enough without the past pestering me. 

"Do you remember how she--" she paused. I knew what she meant. She wanted to know how Iole had 'died'. I didn't want to remember. But I did. 

"Died? She was sick. They didn't even admit her to Saint Mungo's." Pale, green, empty eyes looked at me from long ago. I didn't want to remember this. 

_"Lucius, look at the apple trees," a childish voice murmured into my ear. I hadn't had the heart to tell her there hadn't _been_ any apple trees. Just the grave yard. But she'd been buried there, soon enough. _Outside _the family tombs. Alone. In the cold. Such a little body--_

"Why?" Lily's voice was a little more than a whisper. 

"She was a Squib. She couldn't do magic. She was a 'disgrace' to the family name, they said. They didn't even put her in the family records. She would have been better off dead." I attempted to look nonchalant. "That's what they said." 

Lily's emerald green eyes replaced those of my dead sister's. They were filled with concern. For me. An overwhelming desire rose up within me to _know_ if she loved me. Did she? Or was she just _fond_ of me? 

I'd only loved and been loved by one person in my entire life, and that was Iole. We'd been children, yes, but a child's love is often the most pure, the most honest. 

Why was I thinking about her _now?_ I'd buried those emotions, those secrets, those _memories_, so far down inside my soul, it surprised me I still remembered. But I did. 

I surprised myself by saying, out loud, the question that had been plaguing me. 

"Lily, do you _love_ me?" I gave the word love a sort of sardonic twist; I was Lucius Malfoy, and I didn't want anyone, even Lily, to think I was getting. . . soft. But I shouldn't have minded, around her. I believe I could have bawled like a baby in her arms, and she still wouldn't have looked at me any differently. 

She didn't hesitate at all.

"Of course I do." 

Was she lying? I found myself thinking this. Of course Lily would never _lie_ to me; I would have gambled my life on that fact. And I didn't even _like_ gambling. But then again, she was still looking at the moon, full and glowing, above us. Couldn't she look me in the eye? Her silent laughter drew me out of my thoughts.

"You don't believe me, do you?" 

"I do, I mean--" she didn't give me a chance to finish. 

"Shush Lucius, your prolonged silence only means one thing." She touched my leg lightly; she wanted to stand up. I moved away and got to my feet, joining her. 

"Either you're thinking something you shouldn't be thinking, or. . . you're appalled by the idea of a mudblood loving you. But that falls in the first category, doesn't it?" She'd meant this as a joke, but. . . somehow, I couldn't bear the thought of her calling herself a mudblood. She wasn't. Well, theoretically, she was, but-- _she_ _wasn't._

"You're not a mudblood." I said, quietly. 

"Well, I forgot about that; I hear it so often I've gotten rather immune to that dirty name."

"Who? Who calls you a mudblood?" My very _Pure_ Blood was boiling, at that instant. Someone _dared_ to call Lily a mudblood? How come she hadn't told me sooner? I could have beaten that bastard to a bloody pulp—

"Well no, no, not me _directly_, but it's a common phrase now, these days. . . you said yourself. Muggle resentment is rising to a fevered pitch now, especially with this Voldemort-fellow in the scene. You're not a muggle lover yourself, Lucius."

"All right, maybe I'm not a candidate for the Muggle Lover of the Year award, but I don't. . . I mean, you know I would never--" I spluttered uncharacteristically. It must have been the fact that I would be lying through my teeth if I told her I would never torture any muggles. Because I would; and, despite my great lying prowess, lying to _Lily_ was never quite the same as lying to anybody else. 

"You don't have to tell me, Lucius. I know." She _knew_ I would be a Muggle-murderer? Or she _knew_ I would never kill any? Hoping profusely that it was the latter, I quickly changed the subject.

"So _do_ you love me?" 

"Yes, I do. Why do you find it so hard to believe?" 

"I didn't say that--"

"You practically did--"

"No I didn't, I was just making sure--"

"Yeah right, I can tell now, you're bluffing, I've become immune to your lies--" she joked, but this was so close to the horrible truth, I could do nothing but silence her with another 'truth' of my own. 

"Yes-but-then-it-doesn't-matter-because-I-love-you-anyway," I said, all in one breath before I gave her a kiss. 

My heart was still beating at an uncomfortably fast pace. Had I just told her--? Yes, I had. And, strangely, I felt no regret. 

It was the truth. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Notes:

Hey! :D I've finally updated. I'm sorry I won't be able to give long replies to all of you, since I'm too sleepy, I still have to take a shower, (and I'm itching to reread OotP. . . hehehe). And I hope you all understood that bit about the Apple Trees and Iole; she was sort of. . . 'Delusional', from being so sick. So thanks to:

Chelli—yay!! Thanks for the long review, I love long reviews!

Erenriel—hope Lucius enjoys the closet!

Kristen—glad you like the story :D 

TheSilverLady—thanks! :D

Sarah—yes, it always _is_ horrible to admit how much we love his devilish villain-ness :D

Nan/Dwen— as much as I would like to, I can't make it AU L I'm trying to stick, as much as possible, to the original storyline J Glad you're back! :D

Hope you guys like this chapter, sorry it was so long in the making :D Review!!! Please!!! I would have taken longer, if the reviews hadn't come :D Reviews make me, and **Lucius**, smile big, insane smiles. *whisper* but don't tell him I told you. :D


	25. Black Heart

**Chapter 25**

The days appeared to flow together in one, seamless haze. 

Lily loved me. Pathetic as it may sound, the thought of being loved by somebody, especially Lily, made me. . . _happy_. Well, as happy as a Malfoy could get, anyway. I was quite aware of the fact that people did _not_ love me; they feared me, and, therefore, managed a certain amount of grudging respect, but they didn't love me. 

Love was something for equals, and those that feared me certainly weren't what I normally considered my equals. 

If Severus noticed a change in my behavior, he said nothing about it. He'd been much to busy trying to get those pesky brats (Potter and Company, of course) in trouble. Sad to say, he hadn't been very successful. 

All this contentment was enough to make me almost forget the secret society I would soon be joining. Almost. 

As I'd once mentioned, a certain teacher had been giving me strange looks. Of course, I'd ignored these looks, pointed though they were. If I could ignore my father's glares, I 

could ignore Garednon's. 

However, a not-so-subtle hint popped up, quite unfortunately, when my essay about Counterjinxes was returned to me. I'd gotten an A. 

In stupid muggle terms, that would be a considerably good score, I suppose. Which only goes to show _how_ stupid muggles can really be. In the Wizarding World, Hogwarts, specifically, A stood for Acceptable. It was the passing mark. Well. One did not just go around, giving Malfoys A's for no reason at all. Scrawled hastily at the upper right corner of my paper were the words:

**See me after Class**

Hardly a cryptic message. What an insipidly idiotic teacher _he_ was. He could have just _told_ me to meet him after class; why had he decided to let my grades suffer? That essay deserved nothing _less_ than an O (For you muggles out there who have no idea what it is, it means Outstanding). And it was a N.E.W.T year too! I was going to murder that bastard one day. 

But, as of now, no matter how unfortunately, he was still my teacher, and so, as the rest of the class filed out, I stayed behind once more. Did he _really_ have to make a fool out of me in front of the Gryffindors? Again, this statement does _not_ imply that he ever _made_ me into a fool, literally; it merely implies the fact that his efforts made me _feel_ like one. 

Now, all those Goody Gryffindors would be gossiping behind my back about how _stupid_ a Malfoy had become in Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

Well, gossip meant nothing, really, but it _could_ ruin my carefully made reputation. 

"Mister Malfoy," Garednon said loudly, for the other students to hear, "your grades _appall_ me. How could you be so careless as to write counter_hex_, when we all know there's no such thing? As I discussed last meeting, the word _counterjinx_ prevails, as the jinx was the first Dark Spell discovered, not a hex. Counter_curse_ is often used. However, as it branched from flagrant misuse and therefore incorporated itself into wizarding vocabulary, I could hardly count it as correct.Now, tell me again, Mister Malfoy, what _is_ a jinx?" His tirade ended the moment everyone had filed out. He performed a silencing charm, and spoke to me.

"Have you made your decision? You've dawdled long enough--"

"Yes--"

"I told you he doesn't like to be kept waiting." He hissed, his face contorting into something I'd never seen before: evil. And hatred. I tried to sound as calm as I normally would. 

"He doesn't? Oh well. Gar—Professor, I mean, these grades you gave me, they're simply revolting--" I was cut off as he continued.

"He performed the Cruciatus on me, _Mister_ Malfoy. He wondered what was taking so long. Be glad I didn't tell him you were off gallivanting around school, bold as brass, with your little mudblood whore--" the bastard never finished his sentence; I'd pushed him up against the wall, my wand at his throat. 

"_Never call her my _mudblood whore_," my voice was so filled with rage, I barely recognized it as mine. No one called Lily a whore. She was the farthest thing from it. I'd expected a curse from him, but nothing came. He was shaking. And not from fear, either. From laughter. Disgusted, I moved away from him. _

"_Expelliarmus." The spell was said almost lazily, and I was thrown back against the table. He caught my wand deftly, smirking.__ "Love weakens you, __boy. Only fools fall in love. There __is no love. You understand that, don't you? Because if you don't--" _

I gritted my teeth in annoyance. Of course I understood. But Garednon was wrong. Love did exist. Almost as if he could read my mind, he continued, mockingly, " 'Love knows no boundaries'? That's an erroneous saying; anything that doesn't cover the whole of a topic is erroneous, as I've so painstakingly discussed in class. Though I highly doubt you ever listened. Love knows no boundaries because it is infinitesimal. So small it needs no boundaries; so small, it is non-existent. _That is the whole truth, is it not?"_

 I said nothing. "But maybe _love is different in your case." The way he'd said love had sounded exactly like the way _I'd_ when I'd asked Lily if she loved me. The same sardonic twist, the same mocking tone. I would never say it like that again. _

"Love. . . it angers you, doesn't it? My Lord always said you would be useful, with the proper manipulation. . . just like your father. . . he aids us, you know, only he isn't aware of it. Maybe we could use this little _mudblood infatuation you have to our advantage." He looked closely at me as he said 'mudblood'. He wanted to see how I would react, just as he'd done the last time. I was no experimental rat, to be gawked at and dissected. I stared at him, devoid of any expression. If only I could have kept my voice that way as well._

"No one uses Malfoys, Garednon. No one." I growled, refusing to address him with the title 'Professor'. It was too good for him. 

He permitted himself a small, condescending smile. "Obviously we've broken tradition then. Your father is a fool, Lucius. You know it. Only you refuse to admit it. You've always refused to see things right in front of you. Isn't that right, Lucius? ISN'T THAT RIGHT, LUCIUS," he repeated, and, at my refusal to answer, he raised his wand. "_Imperio._" I felt myself nodding. "It'll be the Cruciatus for you next time. My Lord might find you useful. Might. But, all in all, I'm more valuable. I've been his follower from the beginning--" My anger had reached its boiling point.

"That's what you're good at, isn't it? Following? Why? You can't make your own--" A curse hurled me against the wall. Garednon was walking forward, closer to me, his hand trembling in barely suppressed anger. 

"Watch your mouth, _boy. My patience can only take so much." He raised his wand, his boyish blue eyes juxtaposing the malevolent glint that shone in them. _

"_Crucio." I expected to feel pain rack my body. I expected to be blinded by it. _

This was not what I had expected. 

It wasn't me twisting in pain, begging for it to stop. 

It was Garednon. 

A heavily hooded figure stepped out of the shadows, wand raised. I knew, without a doubt it was he (or she?) who had cast the curse. 

"Now, now, Garednon. Revenge does not take you far, and jealousy takes you nowhere." 

"Master, _please,_ I am sorry, I was only--"

"You were only what? Ready to kill Lucius here?" The tone of voice did not change, but, from the way Garednon continued screaming, I could tell his pain had been magnified tenfold. "I can do a great many things, Garednon, but I'm afraid forgiving is not on that list, long as it may be." 

My would-be murderer was twisting on the floor, mewling pitifully like a child. 

"But. . . hmm, maybe Lucius has still retained that exemplary abilty. Maybe." The figure turned towards me. "What do you say, Lucius?" It said, as casually as one discussed the number of sugar cubes in a cup of tea. "Should I kill him?" 

Much as I wanted to, I felt no pity for my teacher. He'd wanted to subject me to this kind of pain. He'd told me things I didn't want to hear; about myself, and about my family. He'd called Lily my MUDBLOOD WHORE. I wanted him to suffer. With every fiber of my being, I wanted him to die. No one called Lily a _Mudblood_ _whore_ and got away with it. Almost painfully, I remembered Lily. She wouldn't want him to suffer like this. She wouldn't even want _me_ to let him suffer like this. 

I sighed loudly. "A few more minutes will do, I think. He deserves it." My voice had turned cold and sneering. 

"I would let him die, but. . . as you say. You must remember, Lucius, that generosity is not always good. Postpone a curse, and you may get one in return." 

I watched, emotionless, as Garednon writhed on the floor. His cries would reach no one's ears save ours; the silencing charm he'd placed earlier ensured absolute privacy. 

Abruptly, the noise, which had been getting quite annoying, stopped. The curse had finally been removed. He lay on the floor, whimpering, a complete joke compared to what he'd been doing earlier. I wondered how he'd felt, as all his power had been taken away. Not so strong anymore, was he? And not half as brave either.

The still-cloaked figure was, undeniably, scrutinizing me from beneath its cover.

I'd had my. . . suspicions, about who this was. Who else would Garednon have called 'Master'? It wasn't until the figure stood before me, and threw back its hood, that I knew my suspicions had, indeed, been correct. 

I was staring straight into the eyes of Lord Voldemort.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Disclaimer: the chapter title was derived from David Usher's Black Black Heart. I was listening to it, and it sounded so. . . _evil_, hehehe. :D

Author's Notes: I haven't got much to say, really. . . um . . . oh, hope you all noticed in the previous chapter when he called Lily a very 'smart _woman_'. Remember how he used to argue with himself before, about her being nothing but a 'girl'? :D 

And before I forget, thanks to Dark Rose for telling me about that minor glitch I had : There was a part in Chapter 19 (My Quarters) where Lucius was asking Lily about Petunia, and he mentioned 'never having had siblings of his own'. I changed it to 'never really having had siblings of his own'. I guess he never considered Iole as a 'real' sibling since he didn't remember very much of her; you know how it is, almost everything in our early childhood seems like a dream :D 

Paige—thanks for reviewing!! :D It was a little hard, to have him to do that. In a way, I consider Lily as his conscience; without her, he's pure evil (well, not exactly pure, that would be Voldemort). With her. . . well, he's the Lucius we all know and love. :D

Chelli—thank you!!! *sigh* your review totally cheered me up (post-filipino quiz depression. . . ugh). This chapter isn't fluffy at all. . . I think it's a bit dark. Or very dark. Notice Lucius didn't feel anything when Garednon was being crucio-ed like that? But then Lily popped into his mind, and the smallest bit of human emotion was dragged out of him. I shudder to think what he'd be like without her. . . *sob* 

Dark Rose—OMG thank you sooo much!! *smiles sheepishly* I told you all school was frying my brain! :D I changed it now, but not much; it now says 'I wanted to know, never *really* having had any siblings of my own.' It might sound the same, but the really sort of adds room for possibilities :D I'm glad you liked that chapter; it was one of my favorites too (the long ones usually are :D)

Nanne/Dwen—teehee, Lucius can be sweet when he wants to be :D Yes, the Malfoys are ruthless, Lucius included (as you can see in this chapter). See, they were too 'attached' to their morals (if they had any) to _really_ kill Iole; so they just _let_ her die. It was more negligence than murder, really, so they had their hands clean, so to speak. 

Sarah—you're soo lucky!!! Waah, I'm still stuck with glasses. I want contacts too, but I'm not allowed. . . waaah. L

    
  



	26. From Duels to Dungeons

**Chapter 26: From Duels to Dungeons**

I never thought he would look so. . . young. After all, Grindelwald had been as old as Dumbledore. He, on the other hand, must have been in his early thirties. His dark black hair was long, though much shorter than mine. Women would probably have called him handsome. I doubted anyone would really have noticed him in large crowd; in fact, I could understand quite well _why _the ministry hadn't considered him a threat. His eyes were the only unusual part of him. They were. . . _red_. 

But then, the instant I noticed this particular feature, the light in them had somehow faded, making them a rather dull shade of brown. 

"Lucius." He extended his hand. I shook it, surprised in spite of myself. Was I being treated like an equal? By Lord _Voldemort_? 

Garednon's labored breathing receded into the background. 

"Lord Voldemort." He gave a small, viperish smile. A true Slytherin to the core, no doubt. 

"I presume Garednon here," he made a small gesture to the pathetic heap beside him, "has informed you of the _details_, Lucius?" He said my name with a coldness that would have done even my father proud.  

"The major details, yes." 

"And, am I right in believing you've already made your choice?" 

"I have." 

"You will join me." This was obviously meant to sound like a question, however, I had a strange feeling that the tone of finality in his voice was there for a reason. 

"Of course." 

"All right, then. Now, you shall have the Mark burned into your arm after your. . ." he paused, searching for the right word, "_initiation._"

Initiation? 

His eyes bored into mine, and he smiled his snakelike smile once again.

"You haven't been told?" I shook my head. To my astonishment, he moved back towards Garednon. "Joseph, Joseph." He said reprovingly, pacing a small circle around my teacher. "Haven't I _always_ emphasized the importance of getting things done properly?" Garednon gave the smallest nod. "And, was this little mission done properly?" Another nod. "DO NOT LIE TO LORD VOLDEMORT," his voice resonated so loudly in the room I expected a herd of students to come barging it at the commotion despite the silencing charm, but, just as quickly, it returned to normalcy, calm and collected. "Perhaps another round is necessary?" Without waiting for an answer this time, he said clearly and slowly, as if he enjoyed this to a great extent, "_Crucio._" 

Minutes passed by, attenuated by Garednon's incredibly vocal suffering. My new Master turned towards me, still maintaining the curse on his unfortunate victim (how he did this, I didn't know; he must have been stronger than I'd thought.)

"Well, it looks like _I_ shall have to fill you in on the details, hmm? Well, yes, your initiation. You shall kill a muggle, or a mudblood, of _my_ choice." My heart jumped a little at the word 'mudblood' and I could only hope he hadn't seen the slight change in my expression. "Shouldn't be too hard for you, Lucius. I've watched you; you should handle it with extreme ease, I believe." 

"Of course, My Lord." 

"Excellent." He grabbed the nearest thing to him (a Sneakoscope) and, pointing his wand to it, said "_Portus_." It glowed blue, then returned to its normal state, before he disappeared. 

A Portkey. 

Now that I was left alone (save for that wretched teacher on the floor, to whom, I'm sad to say, I still felt no pity), I allowed my thoughts to wander back to the person it so enjoyed dwelling upon. Lily. Was it possible I would have to kill her? But then, I reasoned, there were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of mudbloods (but Lily _wasn't_ a mudblood anymore, a voice whispered from somewhere inside my head, and I immediately suppressed it; there was no time now for emotional banter). He wouldn't _dare_ take anyone from Hogwarts. 

I felt the urge to curse myself at the frailty of my excuse. Finding comfort in my own lies was getting harder and harder to do everyday.

I stalked out of the classroom and headed down to the Great Hall, dread forming at the pit of my stomach. 

I looked at my watch. I was late. 

A semblance of a smile flitted across my face, remembering what had happened the _last_ time I'd been late for dinner. But, I'd been with Lily, then. Now, I was alone.

Only the soft click of my boots against the marble floor broke the silence. 

I welcomed this stillness; it gave me a chance to evaluate what I had just done. I'd made a decision that would, undoubtedly, affect my life. 

And I can tell you now, it did. At night, I often lie awake and think of all of what could have been. Would Lily have died, if I'd decided _not to join the Death Eaters? I run the images in my mind, continuously—my unsavory method of self-flagellation. But, yes, I do believe she would have died. The only difference is, I would have followed. _

But, to explain the future, I must first reveal the past. And reveal, I shall. 

This silence accompanied me all the way to the entrance of the Great Hall. Unfortunately, it stopped the instant I'd reached the vast corridor. The Brats, (as I'd soon taken to calling the Marauders), minus one, had sauntered in opposite to me, obviously fresh from outside.

"Did you see the look on his face, Prongs?" Black was saying. The said Prongs (Potter) laughed loudly, and was just about to answer, when he spotted me. The cocky grin froze on his face, replaced by the look of defiance Gryffindors often liked to face us Slytherins with. I gave him a sneer, which was much more than he deserved, before I continued towards the door. I was just about to open it, when the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I'd felt this before. 

Instincts told me what he would do, even before the spell was said, and I moved to the left before his Expelliarmus hit me. 

So, he'd grown some backbone now, eh? If Lily was to be believed (and she definitely _was), this courage and unseemly arrogance had sprouted from his luck on the Quidditch Field._

Prefect or not, I knew what to do.

I never ran from a fight, and these little boys were no match for me. 

From the corner of my eye, I saw Black reach for his wand. These idiots were much too slow. "_Expelliarmus!" I said lazily, a smirk forming on my face. Black's wand flew to me, as he flew back.   _

"_Stupefy!" Potter shouted. I ducked (just in time; this boy was, as much as I hated to admit, fast), and the statue of Wilhelm the Wistful shattered behind me. He aimed again. "_Impedimenta_!" _

"_Protego!" I shouted at the same time, and both spells bounced off each other. I heard a weakly said '_Stupefy'_ to my right, said by Pettigrew. Luckily, his aim was as horrible as his pronunciation, as it hit the portrait at least three spans beside me. _

"_Expelliarmus!" My wand (and Black's) flew out of my hands, but, to my surprise, so did Potter's, and Pettigrew's. _

Only then did I realize that we'd had an audience. Potter's first Expelliarmus must have blasted the door of the Great Hall open. Some Slytherin girls were batting their eyelashes at me; obviously they'd seen the whole fight. McGonagall was walking briskly down the length of the hall, and the very air emanated her outrage. 

"DUELLING!" She shouted shrilly. "INSIDE SCHOOL GROUNDS!" I winced inwardly. She sounded too much like my grandmother in a bad mood. 

"And MISTER MALFOY, YOU ARE A PREFECT, YOU SHOULD **NOT** BE ENCOURAGING THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR IF YOU WISH TO KEEP YOUR BADGE!" This woman either had a voice box the size of my Gringotts vault, or she'd used the Sonorous spell. Hopefully, it was the latter, as the latter would, at least, fade.

"Professor McGonagall," Potter practically whimpered, "We--"

"MISTER POTTER, THIS IS THE THIRD TIME YOU'VE BEEN CAUGHT DUELLING IN SCHOOL, and," her voice lowered dangerously as she reached us, "It had better be the last." Third? He'd dueled before? Interesting. Very Interesting.

"10 points off each of you! I'm appalled by your actions, be happy the Headmaster is away, I'm sure he would—" she paused, at a loss of threats. What _would Dumbledore do? He never handed out punishments personally; I'd been here long enough to know that. Her loss of words did not deter her for very long, as she continued, even more shrilly (if that was possible), " He will hear from this, as will your parents! Mark my words! And a weeks worth of detentions for all of you!" _

I almost _felt the three boys behind me cringe. I would have to talk my way out of this. Not like I'd never done so before. Malfoys, Lucius Malfoy, in particular, _never_ had detention. I looked around quickly for my Head of House. From experience, I knew McGonagall was not to be dawdled with. She was, unfortunately, a no-nonsense-woman. Where was he? My eyes raked the teacher's table. Professor Dolohov as nowhere to be found. _

Not a good sign.   

"All four of you, the Dungeons, _now_. Detention starts tonight. I'll find a prefect to make sure you're doing your duties." 

A Malfoy? Cleaning the _dungeons_? Dungeons, which, I might add, probably hadn't been cleaned since Merlin (yes, read Hogwarts: A History; this used to be Arthur's castle, dim-witted muggle though he was)? Malfoys did _not do menial jobs that could just as easily have been done by house-elves. _

Then again, I thought, as McGonagall glared at me for my lack of dungeon-directed movement, there was always a first time for everything. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Notes:

Aren't you all excited? Hehehe. . . seeing Lucius shovel dragon dung. . . or whatever it is they have in the dungeons. . . Bwahahaha! *feels poke*

"Lucius?" 

"For your information, _muggle_, they don't _keep_ Dragon Dung in the dungeons. *plugs shamelessly, facing readers* of course, you can find out in the next chapter, after you've given sufficient reviews. This chapter's reviews was a bit of a disappointment *smirk*"

*Lucius spots Order of the Phoenix on Author's desk* 

"Hmm, muggle artists aren't bad, are they? This looks very much like that Potter boy. Pathetic little muggles; your pictures don't move." 

*Lucius flips through book, looking for his name*

"I WAS HARDLY MENTIONED!! *is incensed* Where's that muggle author?"

"J.K. Rowling?" Author squeaks. *author is rather 'frightened by Lucius' outburst*

"And. . ." *continues in a low, dangerous voice, "she made me _bawl. I don't __BAWL! As a rule, Malfoys DO NOT BAWL!!" *starts destroying Author's extensive collection of school textbooks*_

"Noo!!!" Author has, for some dumb reason, started speaking in slow motion.

"*smirk* you speak in slow motion because of Severus' new hex. Quite nice, isn't it?" Strokes Author's frizzy hair like one strokes a dog. "Good muggle. I feel much better now, having successfully cursed someone. Muggles for Death Eater torture-sessions are becoming quite a rarity these days. Blasted high-security whatchamacallits." *shrugs* "I'd best be leaving now. We're busy trying to infiltrate Dumbledore's pathetic little order." *evil cackle* *Disapparates*

*cough* Well, at least I can still type properly. Reviews!! J

Chelli—Lucius would be the fun kind of evil J Garednon's just disgusting. I think that's why I love torturing him so much! I mean *hem-hem's in a very Umbridge like way* That's why Voldemort likes torturing him so much J Thanks for the long review!! I just love them. . . you know me J I'm glad you like the Drama. . . but, bwehehe, Fluff's usually at the top of my priority list J 

Diabla666—actually, you've got it down perfectly J Lucius lost Iole because she was practically a muggle, and his family wouldn't accept her. Some suppressed memories gave rise to the notion that Lily, being a muggle-born, will cause him to lose her as well. And, the poor guy's learned at a very young age that love only hurts you L But then, as you can see, he's 'taking a chance' with Lily. 

Sarah—humph. *is in self-pitying mode*

Nanne/Dwen—I hope your speechlessness was a _good_ thing! J Actually, I think he really _would have killed Garednon (there was a line there somewhere that said 'I was going to kill that bastard some day'), but, you know, Lily probably wouldn't have wanted him to be a murderer, just because of Garednon (sort of like when Harry said James wouldn't want his two best friends to be murderers just because of Pettigrew) And, as Lucius confessed, he usually did what she wanted. J_

**P.S. I****'****m horribly sorry if I****'****ve given Garednon a new first name. . . hehehe, I****'****m too drained to look for his real one, if I already have written it. . . me and my horrible memory; I _swear_ I already wrote it down somewhere, but I****'****m too tired****…****. Waah. I hate Cations and Anions.**


	27. Lily the Prefect

Chapter 27: Dungeons 

The trip to the dungeons was, all in all, absolutely uneventful. Niles Longbottom, Head Boy, led us, continually muttering about "Duels! Inside the _castle!_", like he'd never had any before. I was sorely tempted to hex some sense into him. Meanwhile, the Brats were sulking, and, from the way they whispered, they were feeling rather sorry for someone named _Moony_, who would, they said, have to be locked up while they toiled in detention. I couldn't care less. _They_ had, after all, started this fight. 

"And _you_, Lucius. You're a prefect. How could you? Giving us a bad name." Longbottom was shaking his head, in apparent horror, at a Prefect knowing how to hex someone who'd tried to hex him in the first place. Hadn't that fool learned _anything_ in Defense Against the Dark Arts? Then again, the teacher _was_ Garednon, who was still pretending to know nothing about that matter. 

And where _had Professor Dolohov gone to? Probably another one of his remedial Arithmancy sessions. That subject was bad enough to have half of the class fail. Of course I also happened to be in that class, but my Malfoy cleverness was more than enough to get me through it with flying colors. _

"These dungeons have to be cleaned, by hand. _No_ magic. Surrender your wands to the prefect inside. _I_ would be supervising you, only I've got Head Boy duties to do." He said pompously, before turning on his heel and walking away. 

Annoying little git he was. 

The walls were moldy, a sickly green tinge spread all over the cavernous room. I'd never gone to the dungeons before-- it was disgusting, and dirty-- and yet, here I was, about to clean it. We all stood there, at a loss of what to do. Quite suddenly, four sets of mops and pails, the latter brimming with soapy water, appeared in front of us. 

"Start working. You can't leave until you've finished cleaning this cell for tonight; tomorrow, you move to another cell." 

That voice. It sounded so. . . familiar. Was it? No. . . it couldn't be, but. . .

I turned around. Sure enough, it _was_ Her. Lily. Only she seemed different. Annoyed? I tried to catch her eye, but she seemed too engrossed with the papers in front of her to notice me. 

I was _definitely_ not used to being ignored like this. 

Somewhat reluctantly, I handed over my wand (she _still didn't look up), took the mop and the bucket, and started to clean. If this job hadn't been so degrading, it wouldn't be half bad. At least, that was what I thought, _before_ the numbness had started seeping in my hands. The soapy water, which had been full of welcoming bubbles earlier, now served the dual purpose of cleaning the walls (covered with slime which must have been stuck on with a Permanent Sticking Charm) and freezing my fingers. Of course, I suspected it did the latter more enthusiastically (if water could be enthusiastic). _

The Brats were grumbling loudly, but I refused to make a sound. Why show weakness? I purposefully scrubbed even more vigorously, giving a silent cheer at the small improvement I saw on the moldy plaster encasing the roughly hewn stone walls.

Footsteps behind told me Lily was pacing around; watching us. Or, more correctly, watching me. The Brats were far away on the other side of the room; if she'd been pacing around them, I wouldn't have heard her footsteps through their complaints. 

Quite suddenly, I felt a hand, not nearly as cold as mine, slip in, and out of my pocket with amazing speed. I turned around, but one look from her, and I resumed my earlier scrubbing just as quickly. She leaned forward, her body radiating surprisingly welcoming warmth.

"It appears you've gotten yourself in trouble, Mister Malfoy." She whispered, almost coquettishly. I smirked, partly from relief that she wasn't angry at me, and partly because. . . well, I liked to smirk.

 "Ask those little Gryffindor boys you have over there at the far corner. They started it." She laughed softly into my ear; her breath tickling and warm at the same time. 

"You sound like a little boy yourself." She gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, and walked away, to reprimand the Brats for talking so loudly in the dungeons. I had to say, I was impressed. McGonagall herself couldn't have given a better scolding.

"You're here to work, not to talk. You broke these school rules out of your own accord; else, you wouldn't be standing here, grumbling and complaining for dinner. And, between the three of you, you've only cleaned half a wall. If other people" she was referring to _me_, of course "can clean half a wall _alone _in the space of an hour, surely three of you could have cleaned a wall and a half by now. This room's to be split up between four of you; finish with a wall, and you're off until tomorrow. But, at the rate you're going, you'll _still_ be cleaning at midnight. And yes; my shift ends in an hour; Mister Pringle will come to watch you afterwards. And, I'm quite sure you'll find he isn't as accommodating as I am." 

It took quite a lot of will power not to cheer 'Go Lily!' at that very instant. 

The next hour went by considerably faster than the first; I was filled with the knowledge that I would be allowed to go soon, and the other side of the wall, nearer to the door, was much warmer. Needless to say, my hands were still aching once I'd finished this menial task. Pringle had arrived, just as I was making my way to the door. 

"Finished so soon, young master Malfoy?" He smiled at me through his grotesquely formed teeth. I managed to grimace back. 

"Yes. I'm sure you'll find my work more than acceptable." He gave a little nod, and handed me my wand. Pringle's parents had been in my father's employ, and he'd used to visit the manor when I was a child. A 'soft spot' must have grown in his hardened heart for me; after all, I _had_ been a very lovable, handsome little child. 

I could hear him shouting at the Brats as I exited. Lily had gone five minutes earlier. Lily. I'd almost forgotten about whatever she'd slipped in my pocket. 

It was a piece of parchment, with her handwriting hastily scribbled on. 

Same place? Hope you had fun in detention, by the way.

Love, Lily

By 'Same Place' she meant the statue of Piro the Pathetic, of course. My heart gave a strange thud at the words 'Love, Lily'. Yes, she'd openly _told_ me she loved me, but it still made me feel strange to hear her say it, or write it so often. I suppose I feared it would lose its novelty. Everything in my world was about novelty. But Lily wasn't. Lily was. . . different. She shone brighter than anything I could ever have. 

But, as I reminisce so often, I never had her for long. 

Again, I've strayed from my story. Let me continue. 

She was there, leaning against the statue, looking a bit tired, but beautiful, nonetheless. She always was. 

"Detention was great, if you must ask." I said, before pulling her roughly to me for a kiss. I hadn't held her for so long (at least, it _felt_ like so long; in reality it must have only been a day or two); I was beginning to miss her touch. 

She kissed me back, but, as my hands traveled up her arms, she cut if off quickly, to my disappointment. Had I done something wrong? (this question, in itself, was uncharacteristic of me; I was supposed to believe I _never_ did anything wrong)

"Your hands! They're freezing." I was relieved, for the second time that day. What was it about her that had me so on edge? Or was it something about me? I was going to become a Death eater, after all--"Let me warm you." She put her hands over my half-frozen ones, and the warmth emanating from them felt almost unpleasant for a moment. But soon, the rhythmic circling of her palms against mine was. . . it was heaven. I'd been cold for so long, and she was so warm. I pulled her closer to me, not caring if Garednon was watching, not caring if _Voldemort_ himself was watching.

 I was with Lily, and all was well with the world.

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**Author's Notes:**

Sorry I took so long! I was supposed to upload this days ago, but, unfortunately, there was something wrong with ff dot net, and I couldn't open the website. Worse, Lucius was on a vacation of some sort in Romania, and he was unable to come to my aid. Oh well, at least I can post _now_. J

I hope you all understood the metaphorical meaning of that last paragraph! For those of you who didn't get it, their hands, in a way, represented them. Lily is a warm person, and Lucius is a cold person. When he started 'changing', he didn't want to; and change pained him. But her warmth of heart seeped into his, and his heart sort of 'defrosted'. When she died, there was nothing left to keep his heart warm, and it froze all over again. *sob* My poor, poor Lucius. *cough cough* not that he _is_ poor, you understand. . . figuratively speaking J 

To explain for the absence of Lucius' death-eater-ness, well, he was too engrossed with cleaning, poor thing L 

And by the way, the reason Lily was acting a bit cold at first, from Lucius' point of view was because: a) she was annoyed at the Brats b) she didn't want to let on to anyone she was getting 'friendly' with Lucius J they were, after all, supposed to keep the relationship a secret. Besides, she knew James was watching her (in a freaky, stalker guy way, hehehe)

**Thank you's!!** J

Sorry, I have to keep this a bit short; I just came from a dance and I am beyond tired. 

**Chelli**---thanks for your wonderfully long review!!! Lucius loved it, as did I. You'll find out who he's going to kill soon enough. . . bwehehehe. I hope this chapter's bit of fluff was satisfactory; there'll be a bit more in the next, I think J

**Sarah**---Cations and Anions are freaky things that have to do with chemistry . . . ugh, don't get me started J

**Nanne/Dwen**---J you're right, it isn't Lily J but. . . oh, I can't say much here, Lucius might get mad at me for giving away secrets J

**Erenriel**--- Ooh, I do hope Lucius enjoys his. . .er. . . _stay_ there. . . muggle genius must have hit him full force, with that blinking light, and now he's in a state of hopefully reversible catatonia J wouldn't want our darling evil villain to turn odd, now would we? J

**Diabla666**---thank you thank you thank you! J I'm glad you don't find my characters 'flat' J I love writing Slytherins J I believe that evil isn't born, it's created, and so this makes villains all the more exciting J 


	28. Only if it Rains

**Chapter 28**

"What happened in the corridor? You know, _really_ happened." Lily asked, pulling my dark green, satin comforter over her slender legs. I leaned back on the pillows, enjoying my present position. Who cared if it had taken two hours in detention to get me there? Let me explain.  

We were back in my room. To be more precise, we were on my _bed_. Now, now, don't get _too_ carried away. I was an eighteen year old, not a dog in heat. We were only _talking_ (_and_ snogging; just a little bit; what good was talking with your girlfriend without a bit of healthy kissing?).

"Well, I was late for dinner, and those Brats of yours" I paused as she threw a pillow at me; obviously she didn't like having the Brats called _her_ Brats "were as late as I was. But, on my honor, I swear Potter started the whole thing. Not _me." She looked skeptical. I let out a loud sigh of frustration. "Is it __really that hard to believe a _Gryffindor_ started a fight, instead of a Slytherin?" All right, we Slytherins might have been a little sneaky, and cunning. Hell, we still are. But that didn't mean we started __all the duels in Hogwarts._

"Yes." She answered without hesitation, but a hint of humor was in her jade green eyes. I leaned closer, so my face was only inches from hers. This was going to be fun.  

"Is it?"

"Y-yes. . ." Ah, my presence was overwhelming, and we _both_ knew it. I leaned in even closer than before; we were forehead to forehead.

"Is it?" I repeated the question. It was just so much fun to tease her like this.

"It might be, yeah--"she barely finished her sentence; I'd moved in for a kiss.  

And she kissed me back, her arms wrapping about my neck. I had to admit, for someone who'd just learned to kiss a few months back, she was good. Then again, I _had been her teacher, hadn't I? _

She tasted sweet and fresh, and I never wanted it to end. This one was much longer than the one we'd had earlier, but, like then, I still had the same, almost _desperate_ need to hold her like this. Maybe it was the urge to reclaim what was mine, or, more likely, I'd just gotten used to having her so near, it seemed unnatural to have her any further away.

Like all rooms in the lower part of the castle, mine was cold, even with the fire burning so merrily in the background. Lily was my warmth, and I held her even closer to me, not daring to let go. We stopped, more for air than anything else, and leaned back on the pillows. She rested her head on my shoulder.   

"I love being with you like this. You're nice to be with." She murmured, looking up at me from beneath her eyelashes. I stroked her hair, enjoying the feel of it through my fingers. It felt like unwoven silk, bewitched to shimmer; the light from the fire running through it. 

"Well, you're nice to be with too." I hadn't just said this to return the compliment; I'd said it because I'd meant it. I liked being around her. She was like a fount of fresh water in a dry desert, and I could never get enough.

"So how was remedial with our dear Professor?" She meant Garednon, of course. By my calculations, he must have been asleep by now, either in his own bed, or on the floor where I'd left him. Still, I felt no pity. I could feel my conscience rousing, ready to prick me with the characteristic pangs of remorse. And this remorse wasn't for him, either. It was for Lily. I didn't like lying to her, but. . . she could never know. 

"Nothing, really, he droned on about jinxes and counter curses." I particularly liked the way I'd constructed this sentence; I wasn't lying to her, I was merely implying. My conscience receded back into the deeper recesses of my mind.  

"As usual. I think that's his favorite topic. Maybe it's the only one he knows something about? O.W.L.'s aren't as horrible as I thought they'd be, you know. Everyone makes such a big deal about it, but--" my sudden burst of laughter quieted her, and she looked at me, vaguely annoyed.

"Lily" I said, still laughing (I had no idea what had gotten into me, making me act like some sort of drunken yob), "you're _you_. You're. . . _smart._" She arched an eyebrow. 

"Like you?" She thought I was smart? Well, so did I. It was a good thing she saw it that way. 

"Of course I'm smart—it's the Malfoy in me. "

" And modest too, aren't you?" Hmm, yes, I'd forgotten about that. 

"Definitely." Strangely enough, _she_ burst out laughing this time. "What? I _am_ modest." She shook a finger in my face, trying to maintain that look of absolute seriousness women always seemed to have. 

"Mother always said truly humble people never admitted they were humble." 

"Ah, yes, the all-knowing mother of Lily Evans. I'll have to take lessons from her, eh? They might make that into a N.E.W.T requirement soon." Almost immediately after I'd said this sentence, her face lit up, like she'd remembered something. 

No. . . she couldn't _possibly_ have expected me to join her for the holidays. . . that was. . . it was. . . well, to put it gently, it was preposterous. A Malfoy, with muggles? Not ever .  . . no, it just _wasn't _right. Muggle-_borns_ were one thing, but _muggles_ were a whole different people. Sometimes, I thought they were a whole different species.

"BythewayLucius,wouldyouliketovisitmyparents?" She said this very quickly, and, to my surprise, she was blushing a little. She looked beautiful when she did that. "Not that you _have _to, you understand, it's not _obligatory_ or anything--" she'd sounded exactly like this when she'd asked about the 'nature' of our first kiss "but, you know, you've always talked of learning about muggles, and, you know, wouldn't you like to learn first hand? It would be fun. . . a muggles-day-out sort of thing, you know? We can see movies, and, you know, shop a little in muggle—er—shops, and, you know. . ." Her sentence had too many 'you-knows' to be considered grammatically correct—a definite sign she was flustered, as Lily was _always_ grammatically correct. 

I looked up at the ceiling (bewitched exactly the same way the Great Hall's ceiling had been; I was rather proud of that particular spell) that was heavily clouded, my head resting on my hands. I spoke; my eyes still fixed one what was above me. 

"Only if it rains." This statement had obviously caught her off guard. 

"What rains?" I pointed up at the artificial sky above us. She imitated my position, stretched out beside me. "All right then. If it rains."  

I don't know how long we lay there, staring up at the sky. Quite a long time, I suppose.  But, eventually, it did rain. The _deal_, though on _my_ terms, had been a little unbalanced from the beginning. The sky _had_ been clouded already, after all, and clouds always meant rain. Maybe my subconscious mind had seeped into my conscious at last. 

It was strange, looking up at the ceiling like that. The rain was only a few spans away from our faces before it disappeared, strangely reminiscent of meteors disintegrating as they touched our atmosphere. I found myself wanting to feel the rain on me; to feel the cold drops shatter as they touched flesh. Impulsively, I turned towards Lily. 

"Do you want to go out? See the rain? I've got a flying carpet around here somewhere--" Flying carpets were somewhat outdated, but they were the best for night viewing. Lying on one and looking at the sky made me feel like the stars were close enough to touch. 

She looked at me. 

"In this weather?" She didn't sound incredulous at all, in fact, she sounded surprised. But my mood deflated a little; she didn't _like_ the rain? 

"Or do you wish to wait until. . . oh, I don't know, rainbows and sunshine?" This was said half-heartedly. Rain was always the best kind of weather.

"No, definitely not; I love rain. I think it's always the best kind of weather." If I hadn't known mind reading was impossible, I wouldn't have suspected her of doing it. Maybe great minds really _did_ think alike. "I thought I was the only one who liked bad weather. Seems I found my equal." She smiled at me, and I smiled back, reflexively now. 

Maybe Lily and I had more in common than I thought. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Author's Notes**: Hmm, I've run out of things to say. Oh yes, now I remember. Next chapter is still an entire blank, so, for those of you who are reading this, please tell me if you want to see what Lucius and Lily get up to in the rain J or, I could just skip to a whole other scene, if you want. Your choice J Oh, and please review, please please please please! Lucius is bound to be back from Romania soon, and I'm sure he'd love them, as a welcome back gift, you know J 

**Thank Yous:**

**Diabla666**-- J hehehe, I loved that part too, Lucius is just so irresistible!!! He's left me his Pensieve to help with the story, and I feel so much closer to him than before. . . *sob* Oh Lucius, I love you *sob* come back!! *cough cough* We _all_ miss you. J

**Sarah**—I'm always in the mood to hex everyone, and I totally sympathize with your lack of magical powers L Yes, Lucius really *should* be back soon, I don't think he'd leave me with his Pensieve for so long (*whisper* I don't think he really trusts me with it. . . bwehehehe) Ooh, yippee, long chappie J 

**Chelli**—Surprisingly, I _do_ do the writing, except Lucius betas the whole thing, to make sure I've kept him in character, and, when he's gone, he makes Draco come over and do it the beta-ing. *smile* Dwaa-cooo *thump* Ouch, what was that?

*author turns around* *sees Draco*

"Oh, it's you." *Author is disappointed, despite Draco's obvious handsomeness*  "Is your father back home yet?"

*gives a smirk, horribly reminiscent of Lucius* *Author lets out a sad whimper*

"Soon enough, muggle. He's taken a liking to Romania." 

* author grumbles*

"And he's forgotten all about me, I suppose?" 

*Draco smirks again*

"He's just told me he's gotten you a Romanian, Dragon-meat sandwich."

*Author turns green* *squeaks*

"Dragon meat, you say?"

"Yeah, real delicacy over there. Quite good, really. _He's_ getting _me_ the newest in the line of Firebolts, you know. I can beat that detestable Potter fool now." *Draco cackles evilly, and disapparates* 

**REVIEW!!! PLEASE????**


	29. Magic Carpets and Nothing but Rain

**Chapter 29**

The late evening rain had placed a sufficient amount of mist all over the grounds; enough to hide us from people, but not enough to hinder my vision. 

My magic carpet (a dark green wool embroidered with silver stitches and tassels) was, as promised by the charm placed upon it years back, dust-free. Lily placed a hand on it gingerly, as it unrolled and floated up of its own accord. 

"It's safe, don't worry," I hastened to assure her. I'd ridden it countless times before, back when Quidditch had still been out of the question. 

"I've never ridden one of these before. . . they're quite rare, aren't they?" I smiled, and shook my head at her lack of wizarding knowledge. But. . . what could I expect? She had, after all, been raised by muggles.  

"See these tassels? Look close enough, and you can see they're woven out of unicorn hair. It's an ancient protection charm, really. The ones with unicorn hair are the safest, _and_ the most uncommon. So uncommon, in fact, that only seven are known to exist." 

"It must have been quite expensive." I smirked.

"It was. But, Malfoys always deserve the best, you know." She gave an indulgent smile, but did nothing else. Obviously, she had no idea how to get on the thing. 

Laws of nature clearly showed that, on materials as flimsy as carpets, you were sure to fall flat on your arse trying to get up on one, as the slope of entire thing was inversely proportional. One would go down, and the other, up. Yes, well. Muggle nonsense, most of it. That was the difference between Muggles and Wizards; Muggles found it difficult to look beyond what they saw. Wizards looked _beyond_ nature every day. 

To show Lily, I leapt nimbly (and, quite gracefully, I might add) onto the carpet. It didn't waver an inch. In fact, I suppose it didn't look very different compared to a platform; only it had no stands holding it up. As I'd expected, she followed my example, and, we were off into the rain.  

I know what you're thinking. How could we both possibly lie, face up to the rain, without drowning? 

Again, I stress the difference between wizards and muggles. 

I'd recently discovered a waterproofing charm, that stopped you from getting soaked, but still allowed you to feel the water. It _also_ protected certain parts of your body; the parts you didn't _want_ to get wet (eyes, ears, noses, so on, and so forth).

Go to the Library, and you'll find there are many charms (and hexes) as useful as this one. But I'm not here to advertise the greatness of the Hogwarts Library, am I? I'm here to tell my story. 

Lily looked impressed when I flicked my wand and said "_Atritus Hydrosum_". Then again, why wouldn't she be? I'd gotten my pronunciation and wand movement perfect. As always. 

"You should teach me that spell one day." 

"I could teach you a _lot_ of things, one day." My voice must have sounded more suggestive than I thought, because I could have sworn a pink blush rose up in her cheeks, before she looked away. 

Stretching myself out on the carpet, I pulled her down gently beside me. The carpet expanded to accommodate us. It hadn't been called a magic-carpet for no reason, you know.

The rain felt cold, but pleasantly so, with the spell. It was nearly winter, after all, and if it had been any colder, we would have had frozen rain. 

My arms seemed to wrap themselves around her of their own will, and she rested her head on my chest, sighing contentedly.

 Lily, Lily, Lily. I could never have enough of her. With the rain around us, I felt like we were in a completely different world. Closed off to the one we both hated so much. Our world, this frail little shell of humanity we'd made, would never last. It _could_ never last. I wanted to be with her, like this, for eternity. 

But even back then, I knew. I knew what we had could never be. It was a brief interlude of happiness in my otherwise miserable life. A sort of punishment, maybe? For things that I would, later on, do? Not maybe. Probably. Was there no better way to punish a man dying of thirst, than by giving him nothing more than a drop of water? 

I ask too many questions, when I have too many to answer. I continue. 

"Lucius, don't do it." Her voice was like the soft wind that stirred forests from their age-old slumber. On my part, it jolted me back to reality. 

She couldn't see me, and she couldn't see my face. All see _could_ see was the water, falling from an infinitely great sky. She saw what I saw. But she wasn't supposed to know what I knew. So how _had_ she known? 

With Lily, I'd always separated the word 'see' into two different meanings. She _saw_ reality; she saw the things around her. But she also saw things _inside_ people. Or maybe she felt them. Whatever it was, she sensed something was wrong, worse than before. I'd always found it hard to keep secrets from her.

How would I get myself out of this one? I racked my mind, and, like it had countless times before, the idea came to me. Feign confusion. 

"Don't do _what_, exactly?" There was no denying the stiffening of my body against hers. This was a subject I definitely did _not_ want to breach, and she knew it. 

But, being Lily, she pressed on. She shouldn't have.

"I—I don't know what. But I had another dream." Damn those infernal dreams of hers. 

"Haven't you been taking Severus' dreamless sleep potion?" 

"It ran out months ago. Now, my dreams don't seem to be as horrible." She smiled a little. "One time, I even dreamt about a test the next day. I studied just in time." My face was devoid of emotion, and she continued, "I had a dream you did something. Something horrible. But I woke up before it happened. I saw you, Lucius. You were aiming the. . . the killing curse. At me."

My heart jumped. Would Voldemort really pick her? And if he did. . . what would I do? I could never hurt Her. . . no, not Lily. Never.   

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" She closed her eyes, and looked away from me. More likely, she looked away from the coldness and anger that I was sure was printed all over my face.

"Last night. I dreamt this last night. And I know you--"

"You know I would never hurt you Lily. It was just a dream." She hesitated.

"Maybe it was. I hope it was. The reason I didn't tell you earlier was . . . I looked up Seers in the Library. The ones who dream about the future sometimes. It said that those dreams they—we—have are usually symbolic, and not concrete. So the dream I saw of James dying. . . it might have symbolized him failing something. . . and, with the duel you had tonight—I thought my dream about you must have symbolized that, only you were 'killing me' because I was a Gryffindor, and maybe the others were Gryffindors too? I mean, you know. . . yeah." I'd learned, from recent observation, that whenever Lily said 'You know', she was troubled, and at a loss for words. 

"And so you were telling me now. . . 'Don't do it', because I'm going to. . . have another duel? What?" I said, trying to hide my true feelings behind my skepticism. Voldemort would't. . . he _couldn't_ ask me to kill Lily. He couldn't. Dumbledore was still here, wasn't he? And, old and senile as he undoubtedly was, he _did_ offer a small, flimsy blanket of protection. 

"I was telling you because. . . if there _is_ something you're going to do. . . something bad, just. . . remember what I said. And" She paused, and looked at me with her eyes full of childlike trust and honesty, "I don't like keeping things from you." 

I'd never felt guiltier in my entire life.   

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Notes:

Hello! I'm so sorry this chapter was so long in the making; I had to work out the numerous glitches I found, and, being a bit of a perfectionist to the bone, it took me forever to proof-read it. I hope it's all right. 

If you guys have any questions (and I know you probably do, since I get confused myself), you can just add me to your messenger list (either yahoo, or hotmail); my hotmail address is hes_gail@hotmail.com, and my yahoo address is underscore_underscore1@yahoo.com J e-mails though, should be sent to the hotmail one, as I never check my yahoo account J 

Thank Yous:

Chelli--J your constant reviews keep me going J Yes, Draco's _very_ much like his father, except Draco, the poor thing, is still clueless as to what Lucius' biography is about. Obviously, Lucius isn't too keen on letting his son know what he'd gotten up to as an adolescent J I tried showing Draco how to use internet, but he ended up getting annoyed and he hexed me, to vent off some of his anger. How horribly impolite. Good news: Lucius is coming back tomorrow!! With my Dragon Meat burger!! *cough cough* not that I actually look forward to _eating _Dragon Meat J

NewSecretRose-- J yay, I love new readers, so thanks for reviewing! J I'm glad you liked the blood part, I thought it was really sweet too; Lucius should get frustrated and do insensible things more often, because it really suits him J 

Sarah-- *apologetic smile* I'm sorry I haven't been keeping up with your story lately; dratted tests! Eew, and midterms are coming soon! Waah. *sob* That Whomping Willow thing is a great idea! Unfortunately, I didn't get to use it for this chapter, but I probably will later on J And I'll dedicate that chapter to you J 

Tv-fan-06-- J glad you like the story, and thanks so much for reviewing! J

Please please please please please review if you're reading, because I'll probably need reviews to keep me going throughout midterms. . . *sob* please? Pretty please? J


	30. In 'Designer'

**Chapter 30**

"Lucius, hurry! The Knight Bus is going to leave any minute--"

Somewhat reluctantly, I boarded the said bus, and seated myself right beside her. Yes, I was on my way to have a _very_ muggle vacation. I'd written to my parents, a letter full of gaping holes that they would never notice. Terribly sorry that I would be unable to go home for Christmas. . . I would be there a little after New Years' Day. . . Yes, N.E.W.T.'s were no trouble at all. . . It went on and on. It was so easy, lying to them. Not because they never knew, but because they never cared. 

"I'm glad you finally made it. Don't worry, muggles aren't _that_ horrible. I've lived with them for years." I bit my tongue at the reply I had been about to make. I'd been irritable lately, but with good reason. Garednon had, amidst his constant muttering (maybe the Cruciatus had driven him mad; I heard that happened to people sometimes), informed me that my initiation would come soon after the holidays. 

No. I wouldn't let _him_ of all people bother me. And Lily. I turned towards her, resolutely, _determined_ to enjoy this. "And so, I pop up at your parents' doorstep, and tell them I'm your wizard boyfriend--" Oh no. Not that look. I could always tell when Lily had a plan up her sleeve. 

"Lucius--" I knew it. She'd said my name that way, the way I liked especially, and she was going to use it to her advantage. Women. "About your clothes." She didn't actually _expect_ me to don muggle clothes, did she? Because I wouldn't. "You see, muggles. . . they haven't worn robes since _Rome_. . . well, they don't really _wear_ robes. You would look. . . out of place," she pressed on. 

"No, going on a muggle holiday is bad enough--" Why, _why_ did she have to look so beautiful when she pleaded with me? I tore my gaze away from her, and looked at the landscape, which passed intermittently between leaps and blurs. 

"You wouldn't want to be the laugh of muggle society, would you? Please? For me?" She wheedled, almost expertly. I had the sudden mental image of her asking her Father to buy her a new book, or dress. He probably did. 

"I said--"

"You'd stick out like a sore thumb, and--" her eyes looked up at the ceiling, obviously searching for greater, grander, more convincing arguments. The emerald green of them practically lit up with an idea, and she continued, "you might risk the exposure of our society, Lucius!" I smirked. 

"It's about time it gets exposed. Muggles are so ignorant." I never told her, and I regret that now, but I always loved it when she wanted something from me. However small the favor she asked, being needed always brought a strange feeling to my heart.

"But. . . then. . . Lucius, be reasonable. . ." 

"Fine, I _will_ be reasonable." I arched my eyebrow insinuatingly. After months of being around me, she knew instantly _what_ I was insinuating.

"I'm not going to. . . you know, I wouldn't. . . I mean, just to convince you?" She gave a small, half-hearted little laugh that did nothing to conceal the blush creeping up her cheeks. She was so innocent. 

"Well, my dear, I wasn't thinking _that_, but, now that you mention it. . ." I leaned forward, an exaggerated, amorous expression on my face, and she, following my lead, put on a face of mock horror as she tried to 'fend off' her unwanted lover. Despite all that, we both managed to collapse on the small bed, Lily's shriek not entirely muffled (a strange woman who the conductor had named Madame Marsh gave us a reprimanding look from her corner of the room). 

This was something and Lily often did. She loved being the star of her own play, and, as much as I hated to admit it, so did I. 

We never knew this would end up a tragedy, and not just a comical romance, like we'd always thought. We'd been doomed from the start.

"Mister. . . er. . . engineer sir? Could we stop by. . . a muggle clothes shop?"

"An _expensive_ muggle clothes shop" I interjected. If I was going to look like a muggle, I was going to look like a rich one. The _thought_ alone of looking like a muggle made me shudder.

The Knight Bus took one more, agonizing BANG!  (Lily stumbled into a chair and I fell back against the wall) before we reached our destination: A small muggle shop with the word DESIGNER printed on it. 

I paid the conductor-slash-engineer before I stepped into open, muggle territory. I shuddered again, and I heard Lily laugh behind me. She wrapped her arm around mine, leaning against my cloak. "They're only _muggles_ Lucius." 

We were greeted by a blast of warm air, despite the lack of a fireplace. Muggles _were inventive little creatures, weren't they? _

The clerk eyed us suspiciously. I knew he doubted either of us would be able to pay for anything; we looked too young. And with his muggle stupidity, he didn't know my robes (hand-woven and bewitched to keep me warm in the winter and cool in the summer) had cost a fortune. Immediately, I put on my haughtiest look. He might have been a stupid muggle, but I was willing to bet my wand on the fact that he knew what rich and arrogant meant. 

"What do you suggest I wear?" I said this to Lily, of course, but the clerk flocked to my side anyway, looking less suspicious than before. The haughty look must have been working.

"Well, sir, I suggest--" I swept away imperiously toward the other end of the room, looking around. Bloody hell, how did muggles put these contraptions on themselves? They looked ridiculous, and I was _expected_, by _Lily_, no less, to _sport_ one of these things?

"Yes? What _do_ you suggest?" My voice was bored, and I could hear Lily stifle a giggle behind me. 

"Well. . ." the clerk sounded more nervous now, "a gray sweater, maybe, to set off your eyes, and white--"I stopped him with a gloved hand.

"Black, always black. But the gray shall do fine." 

"And a coat, Lucius, don't forget the coat. Muggles" the clerk raised an eyebrow at this word, but Lily paid him no mind, "don't have spells" (both eyebrows raised now) "to keep you warm." I nodded. 

"A coat. A nice, _black_, coat." He handed me the gray jumper, black trousers, and, after a bit of digging through shelves (wizard clerks never had to do that; they just _accio_-ed the thing over), he handed me the coat as well. It was long, and, after a moment, I felt I had a sort of affinity to it, as it closely resembled my robes.

"Lucius," Lily said again, "you'll be staying for almost a week. . . don't you want some more clothes?" Oh yes, I'd forgotten. Muggles were so primitive they actually had to _wash_ their clothes. 

"Clerk," he turned around, trying not to be affected by the rudeness which I'd addressed him with, "get a black, charcoal gray, light gray, and blue black sweaters, all in my size; I presume you know my size?" He nodded yes, and I continued, "and, more black pants."

"And a white sweater," Lily added hastily, smiling imploringly at me. "I want to see you in white. You'd look like an angel." She smiled again, burying her face in my robes. I shrugged, and held her tightly. If it made her happy, why not?

The clerk looked at me for affirmation with Lily's suggestion, and I nodded impatiently. 

Impertinent fool. 

"Sir, ah. . . would you like to try them on?" 

"No." I snapped, trying not to join in with Lily as she snickered behind me. The Lily of a few months ago would never have snickered. She would have admonished me gently to me nicer to the shopkeeper, the poor thing. Obviously, I'd been a horrendously bad influence on her. I smiled. 

I paid for the clothes, and, doing the quick arithmetic in my head, noticed that it had only been a little over 5 galleons. Muggle clothes were so cheap, I almost laughed. And this was supposed to be an expensive store. Expensive, my arse. 

"Shall _you summon the Knight Bus, or shall I?" We were standing outside the store, the cold wind making mischief with my hair. I suppressed the immediate urge to do a Hair Replacement charm. That, I could do later. Muggles would notice. _

"Oh, I thought we'd take muggle transportation." She looked up at me apprehensively. "A muggle trip, remember?" I let my breath out in a deep sigh.

"Fine. Muggle transportation it is." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry it took me so long to add a new chapter. Urgh, the dreaded midterms have come. In fact, they haven't even yet (I'm typing away in my room when everyone thinks I'm studying), so the next chapter will take a while. Wish me luck! J 

And if you want some teasers, a small clue as to what's going to happen in the next few chapters. . . read my reply to Sarah, where Lucius makes an appearance J 

Ooh, ooh, I almost forgot, Jason Isaacs, the muggle actor who played Lucius, has a daughter, and guess what her name is???? LILY!!! *sob sob* 

**Tv-fan-06**—thanks for reviewing! J 
    
    **Diabla666—**I'm glad you like the metaphors, or whatever they're called J I have a book full of them, and I stick them in my stories when I feel the need to J Well, about the Lucius-arrogance: It's the way we feel when we're in love, so, in Lily's eyes, Lucius is close to perfect. She's closing her eyes to the darker side of him (something she'll regret later), because he can do no wrong. That's what she thinks, anyway J And, I guess James is a little unseemly with arrogance, since she's used to him being the good guy, and Lucius has been arrogant since the day he was born, so she rationalizes, through her rose-colored-glasses, of course, that Lucius can't change his arrogance _that_ quickly, etc. Glad you mentioned it, though J And I hope you understood my incoherent babbling. 
    
    **Dwen—**Hope you enjoyed yourself wherever you went (was it Romania? Like Lucius?) I'm glad you liked the symbolism too; I can be a horribly symbolic person sometimes J I hope this chapter had enough interaction, and trust me, there will be _a lot more next chapter, and probably the chapter after that. These are almost the last few fluff chappies _

**BananaLuver—**thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad you like the story! J

**GoodCharlotte—**yes, the teachers were sitting with them in the compartment J Most of the stories are narrated by Lucius directly, so he adds in tidbits of things to come, things that haven't yet happened; I hope I didn't confuse you! J

**Sarah—**of course I'd dedicate it to you, J 

*turns to Lucius, who has been sitting, quite idly, beside her *

*gasp*

 "You did the Cruciatus on her?" 

*Lucius looks abashed in a proud, arrogant way*

"And if I did?"

"That would be _so mean." _

*Lucius raises eyebrows*

*Lucius tries, and miraculously, succeeds, to look innocent*

*Author curses (and, at the same time, blesses) his angelic features*

"But she started it."

"You sound like a little boy."

"That's what Lily's supposed to say." 

"I know. Just reminding you what she'd think of you if she saw you were torturing poor muggles." 

*Lucius looks pensive (and so, horribly, horribly handsome, damn him)*

"She did." 

*Lucius shakes head, and tries to take away cloud of depression that has magically appeared above his perfectly coiffed head*

"How was the dragon-meat?"

*Author tries not to throw up at the memory*

*Author feels sorry for Lucius, with the Lily-subject being breached, and dutifully holds back retching-sound*

**REMEMBER REVIEW! PLEASE?? FOR AN OLD FREAK DYING OF MIDTERMS? ****J**


	31. Lily's HovelHouse

**Chapter 31**

I stepped off the muggle contraption (a Tacsi, Lily called it), trying not to look queasy. Admittedly, the Tacsi was, in many ways, better than the Knight Bus. But it was a _muggle_ object, and I _still_ found it hard to believe I'd gotten off it in one piece. How did muggles _live_ like this, with no magic? I'd only gone like this for a _day_ (all right, _less_, even) and _already_ I was finding it hard to cope. 

"See, muggles aren't all _that_ bad." Lily was saying, as she walked towards her house (at least I _thought_ it was a house; it looked like a bloody _hovel_ compared to my mansion). Not _bad_, she said? Muggles were _horrible_! 

"Ah, but they are." I could almost see her roll her eyes. She rang the doorbell, and a moment later, a woman who bore a painstaking resemblance to her opened it. Her mother, no doubt.

"Lily, darling!" I was left on the doorstep, standing awkwardly (and feeling the same way), while Lily's mother gushed on and on about how good it was to see her again. I felt a small spasm of jealousy, at seeing her family. They were so. . . _happy_. So _unlike_ mine. The instant I felt it, I brushed it off; I was a Malfoy _pureblood_. Of _course_ we had different practices. 

"Yes mum, I'm fine, Dad's all right? And Petunia—she's alright too?" Lily said, as she tried unsuccessfully to fend off her mother's attentions. 

"Perfect, she's with her friends, you know, Christmas shopping and all." Mrs. Evans answered, and, while brushing off imaginary pieces of lint, peered over her daughter's shoulder to look at me. "This must be Lucius?" She motioned for me to come closer, and she smiled warmly. I smiled back. She looked so much like Lily, save for her blue eyes, it was hard not to. "My, what a handsome young man you are." She wrapped me in a motherly hug; she smelled of flowers and cookies. 

The irony of the situation was laughable; my own _mother didn't hug me, but this woman, this __stranger, did it with such pleasant familiarity. _

"Both of you, you must be freezing, come on in, out of the cold. Richard?" A pale-looking man walked into the room. Pale, like he hadn't gone outside in quite some time; pale, like he didn't have enough blood. Lily's father. 

"Daddy." Lily said softly, walking over to him and embracing him. She loved him very much. I could tell. "Are you better?" 

"What nonsense has your mother been writing to you now? I'm fit as a bull, and I could" he stopped to cough into a handkerchief, "just a bit of coughing, you know, nothing wrong. Lillian," he turned to Lily's mother, "you mustn't exaggerate these" he coughed again, "stories, wouldn't want Lily to be worried about her old man when she's got her Lizards coming up--"

"O.W.L.'s" Lily interjected softly.

"Precisely, what I meant to say. Is this the young man Lily's been writing about?" He looked at me, and clapped me on the back. "You be nice to her, or you'll have me to answer to, you hear?" He said jovially. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lily turn a bright red. She was adorable. 

"I will, sir." What else could I say? And I _had_ to me polite. I was raised that way (I managed to block out the part in my upbringing which specifically taught me that muggles were better dead than alive, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with Avada Kedavra-ing them). 

"Don't 'sir' me, just call me Richard." 

"How about some hot chocolate? We'll get Lucius settled in first. You don't mind staying in the attic, do you dear?" I shook my head, and smiled the smile I reserved especially for mothers. 

From what I could tell, mothers, whether witch _or_ muggle, acted the same: they all believed you were trying to steal their daughters from them (which I most certainly was, but I was in no hurry to let her know that, was I?). 

"We've cleaned it up quite well, don't you worry." She turned to Lily. "You show him to his room, I'll get your father to bed." She whispered the last statement; loud enough for everyone but her husband to hear.

"No problem mum. Lucius, could you?" She motioned to the trunks, her eyes and voice just a little too bright. I nodded; she couldn't do any magic, because of that stupid law against Underage Wizardry, but I could. 

"_Locomotor Trunk." I waited until her parents were already out of the room, so they wouldn't have to ogle at the sight of magic being done in front of them._

Our luggage floating eerily behind us, we walked up the stairs. She said nothing; her eyes shining brighter and brighter with unshed tears, as she showed me the way to my room. 

"That's the room Petty and I sleep in," she managed to croak, in a very un-Lily-like manner. I levitated the trunk, and let it drop gently onto her bed. 

  
We finally reached the attic, via a set of narrow steps that resembled, somewhat uncannily, some of those at Hogwarts.

"I'll help you unpack," she croaked again, but I had a certain feeling that that wasn't the reason she was here. 

"It's all right, Lily." I gathered her into my arms, and stroked her hair gently. Her father's sickness was really bothering her, I knew. 

If it had been _my father, I wouldn't have been worrying about him; instead, I would have been worrying about my inheritance, and when I would get it. I might even have been worrying about his will, and wondering if I would have to make another one (with his forged signature, of course); one that suited __me. The thought almost made me ashamed of myself. __Almost. My father was __not the man Lily's father was. The same rules didn't apply, did they?_

"Lucius, I'm so worried about him--" she hiccoughed, "and he's trying to act like--"she hiccoughed again, "like nothing's wrong, but"-hic- "there _is!" She sobbed vehemently, burying her face into my now-tear-soaked sweater. _

"Listen—I can't tell you he's going to be all right. If what you're saying is any indication, I know he won't be here forever. But he wouldn't want you crying over him, would he? He wants you to be happy, and if you're happy, then so will he. I can tell what kind of man he is, Lily; he doesn't want to be treated like a sick invalid. Act like nothing's wrong. You don't want to remind him of what's going to happen soon, yeah?" She gave me her watery smile, complete with teary green eyes and a red nose. She was so beautiful. "Don't cry, they might think I made you." I admonished tenderly. "Then I'd be kicked out of this quaint little muggle settlement. You want that to happen?" She shook her head, and, before I knew it, she had tackled me down with a bear hug. 

I kissed her lightly on her nose (now a pinkish color), and held her loosely. 

I eyed the unopened trunks with great disdain. No house-elves. I turned to Lily. 

"Er, how do you unpack these things?"   

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author's notes:

This is a quickie chapter, since I still feel guilty for not studying J Hope this chappie's okay enough J Two more chapters of muggle-ness, before the return to Hogwarts, and the inevitable initiation. . . *dang dang dang* *scary music*

Thank You's:

tv-fan-06—thanks! J I'm glad you liked it J
    
    Dwen—Yes, I'm sad to say, I think it really _is_ the last bit of fluff there. *sob* You're right though, Lily can persuade Lucius to do *almost* anything. That 'almost' hints at something ominous and horrible to come. There was a line somewhere, where Lucius said something like 'If it made her happy. . .'. So, that shows how much he likes making her happy, and how much he hates to make her cry. I'm sure you would have enjoyed that beach in South Carolina a lot more if Lucius had stayed there J  
    
    Chelli—I know, midterms come much too soon. I should be studying, but, as tomorrow's a holiday here, I've decided to procrastinate a bit. Bwehehehe. I loved writing (*ahem* _borrowing_) that line [from Lucius' Pensieve]. Lily's still Lily, and despite her never-changing goodness, she borrows a bit of Lucius' mischievousness. *is shocked that mischievousness is actually a word*. Hope you enjoyed your vacation out of town J And thanks for reviewing twice! J  
    
    Erenriel—hmm, you think Lucius _accio_-ed the bunny over to your house? Or maybe that bunny's a Duracell bunny in secret, and you know, it goes on and on, etc. *covers the computer screen, is case Lucius is behind her* *whispers* he doesn't like the fact that he might need therapy, he thinks he's perfect. . .
    
    *Lucius apparates in* "Who's perfect?"
    
    *Author coughs* "You, of course." 
    
    *Author tries to lean casually on computer screen*
    
    *Lucius, with his incredibly smart wizard intellect, notices instantly and sees through the plan*
    
    "Hiding something, are we?" 
    
    *Author tries lie and look convincing; key word: try; Author cannot convince expert liar like Lucius* "Of course not."
    
    *Lucius sweeps author away unceremoniously onto floor, and glares at computer screen* 
    
    *Author is freaked out. . . _however_. . . a quick glance at the computer screen shows her Quidditch screen saver is on*
    
    "That's supposed to be Draco, is it? And that's Harry?" *Lucius points to Daniel and Tom*
    
    "Er, yes, it is." *Author yet again attempts to lie, since Lucius does not look convinced* "That's what I was hiding from you. I have a. . . er. . . crush on Draco." *this is obviously a blatant lie, since Lucius is the only one the author will ever love* (that sounded sooo sad)
    
    *Lucius raises eyebrow*
    
    "I see." *Lucius has strange-yet-evil smirk on face, as he disapparates* (probably to tell Draco of his *cough cough* admirer)
    
    Whew. That was close. Erenriel, you owe me a nice, long review next time J I just saved you from Lucius' crucio. J 
    
    Addy—ADDY!!! *hugs* You're back!!! Of course, I'll send over the rest of the dragon-meat (I only managed to force 1/8th of it down), I hope it doesn't spoil in the mail. *shudders at the thought of greenish dragon meat rotting* Thank you so muchyou're your long long long review! It was 3 kb in my hotmail inbox, and I almost fell off the chair! (And no, this was not one of my regular bouts of clumsiness; I really _was happy and surprised) You're right, it's unfair. I hate the evil midterms. Our English test was *horrible*. And I thought it would be easy. I've never had a multiple choice exam with __eight choices per number, the last two choices being 'all of the above' and 'none of the above'. That is just __so wrong. *sigh* Oh well. I'm glad you think this story is one of the top 5 Lily fics J People ought to make more Lucius/Lily stories. Evil, especially Lucius-evil, is sooo deliciously delectable. Yum. J_
    
    Sarah—don't worry, I shan't attach the 29 to your name J Hmm, sunglasses. Good idea. I'll mention it (and dedicate to you, o' course) somewhere in the next two chapters. Those are the 'muggle-life' chappies. Oi, I *would* review!! I told you midterms are being extremely mean. J 
    
    Runespoor Oracle—here's 'more'! J thanks for reviewing! J


	32. Petunia

Chapter 32 

I was sitting on the kitchen table, while Lily and her mother bustled behind me, preparing dinner. I almost felt sorry for them, with no house-elves, or servants, at least, to cook dinner. When I thought about it, I knew my parents were probably in the drawing room, my father dissecting every part of the Daily Prophet, and my mother doing absolutely nothing. 

"No, that's paprika, _that's_ the chili powder," Lily's mother was saying absentmindedly, her voice a welcome intrusion in my otherwise depressing thoughts. "Lucius, could you stir this for me? I've got to go give Richard his medication, you know." Before I could refuse this menial task, I'd been ushered to the stove with a gentle hand and a warm smile. There was no doubt as to where Lily had inherited her persuasiveness. 

Reluctantly, I began to stir. This was quite similar to making a potion, I reflected, only it smelled better.

"How's muggle life so far?" Lily had sidled up beside me, a large silver bowl balanced on her hip, as she too stirred a gooey looking substance. Noticing the look on my face, she said "Cookie dough", as if that explained everything. 

"Hard work, that's what it is." I muttered grumpily, as the vapor rose up to meet face. 

"Well, you haven't—" She didn't finish her sentence; a loud BANG! Resounded throughout the entire house. Footsteps could be heard, going from the far end of the hall towards the kitchen. 

"Mum, Dad, I'm home!" The voice called out. Lily sent me a glance that clearly said 'watch out for this one'. This was, of course, none other than the Dreaded, and not to mention Infamous, Petunia. A blonde head popped into the room, smiling. The instant she saw us, the smile slipped off her face so quickly, I thought I'd imagined it. Smiling, she'd been almost pretty. The prominent frown she wore now made her nothing more than a human horse (_very_ unbecoming, if I say so myself). "It's you." Her eyes swiveled towards me. "Your boyfriend, is it?" 

Now, let me tell you, I don't take lightly to being called an IT. By a _muggle_, no less. I grabbed my wand menacingly, but instead of hexing her to oblivion, as I should have done, I performed a spell to keep the spoon stirring. Petunia turned an amazing _three_ different shades of white. Looking at her with my haughtiest glare (yes, topping even that delivered to the clerk), I gave a slight bow, moving my head a mere fraction of an inch. The look on her face told me she might have tried to chop off my head, if I'd given her the smallest opportunity.

"Lucius Malfoy." To irk her even further, I let my cold gaze sweep over her. From experience, I knew this made people uncomfortable. Who on earth _wanted_ to be assessed by a creature as close to perfection as myself? As expected, a pale blush crept over her cheeks, and she shifted nervously to her other foot. 

She ignored me. That bloody _muggle_ ignored me! The nerve of that—

"Where is my mother?" This question had been addressed to Lily, who had been standing quietly, stirring her cookie dough.

"She's my mother too, you know. She--"

"I'd like to forget that little bit. I rather detest the fact I'm related to something like—like _you--_" No one interrupted Lily like that. No one. 

I swooped forward in front of Lily, in a surprisingly Severus-like manner (minus the greasy hair and dark robes), my glare strong enough to paralyze anyone. And paralyzed, she was. I used this short little hiatus to my advantage. 

"_Muggle_, don't you _ever, __ever, speak to her like that again. Her sister you may be, but witch you are not. If there's anything to be ashamed of, it's _you._" I spat the last word out. From my limited experience with muggles, I'd realized something. Some were good, while some were, undeniably, disgusting. Sad to say, Lily's own sister fell into the second category._

Petunia was wide-eyed with surprise for a moment, before she turned on her heel and left. 

Lily stared after her, and slumped down helplessly onto the chair. 

"I don't know what to do with her. She hasn't been civil to me since I got my Hogwarts Letter. You think I would have gotten used to it by now. It's just. . . we used to be so close."

Using the same charm I'd used on the bowl of soup (or what I _thought_ was soup, at least) on Lily's Cookie Dough (whatever that was), I sat down beside her.

"People change, Lily. She used to be nice, but now she isn't. Too bad for her. It's hardly your fault." 

"I suppose it's not. I just expect her to pop in our room, with the smile on her face, the one she always used to give me, and sit down for a chat, you know?" She shrugged, and stirred the hardening lump of cookie dough. 

Seeing her resume her duties aroused a pang of guilt in me for neglecting my own, and I stood up hastily to attend to my task.

"How's the soup?" Her question made me to choke. The soup, despite all the magical stirring placed upon it, had the pungent smell of something burnt. I realized, all too late, that I'd neglected to regulate the heat. 

"Superb." I answered immediately (after I'd recovered from the short choking spell), placing the tip of my wand just above the mist rising from the now-reddish liquid. This revealed the ingredients (to my wand at least), so that I would be able to duplicate it. At least, I _hoped_ I would be able to. Magic _was_ a bit unstable. 

As usual, luck was on my side, because the new substance smelled like the old one, without the burning smell. It seemed I'd finished my quick replacement just in time, as Lily's mother popped in to check up on us. Honestly, mothers (all but mine, anyway) were much too overprotective. What did she think I would do, pounce on Lily and shag her right then and there on the kitchen table? Mothers gave us all too much credit. 

"Mmm, the soup smells delicious. Lily, your friend; Jillian, is it? Yes, well, she called while you were upstairs with the trunks. About tomorrow?"

"I'll call her back." Call? She was going to walk all the way over to her friends house? It was getting late—

Well, of course, I _should_ have considered muggle technology. She walked over to a strange looking contraption, and picked it up. Seeing the strange look I cast at her, she said "Telephone" apologetically. What the bloody muggle was that?

I was even more shocked when she started talking to it. Was it a muggle pet? Like an owl, maybe, except it relayed verbal, instead of written, messages? 

"Hi! Yes, tomorrow. We can go to the pictures, maybe, and have a bit to eat at that cute little café we used to go to? Ooh, really? So you're going to bring him? Johnson, hmm… he sounds familiar, isn't he that guy who got caught flushing cherry bombs in the loo? Oh, that was Johnston, wasn't it. . . yes, okay, see you tomorrow then, okay, bubye." She put the _thing_ down, and smiled at me. 

"What was that?" 

"A friend," she answered serenely, placing large spoonfuls of rounded goo on a metal platter. Her shoulders shaking with what I suspected to be silent laughter.

"I didn't know you transfigured your friends into objects, and I didn't know transfigured objects talked back." She _was_ laughing, there was no denying this now. 

"It's a _telephone_, Lucius. Surely you've heard of these before? They're better than owls, you know--"

"What do you do with it?" 

"Well. . . er, it's like the Floo Network. But instead of saying the name of the place you want to go, you just dial a number, and, somewhere else, the phone rings, and well, the person picks it up, or someone else picks it up, and calls the person you wanted to talk to." This sounded a little. . . er, _strange_, but I just pretended to look pleasantly surprised. I wouldn't be caught _dead_ talking to a stationary, _muggle, object._

"And you were talking to your friend about?" 

"Well, um, you know--" She pretended to be caught up with goo scooping.

She was nervous. 

Obviously. 

"No, I don't know, what is it?" I had a sinking feeling it was going to be something I didn't want to be do. Something _horribly _muggle.      

"Well, you see, I thought we would. . . er, have a bit of. . . er, muggle fun, you know, and. . . er, well, yes." She gave one of her smiles, which, when caught off guard, could have the same effect on me as my glare had had on Petunia. 

It was such a shame, then, that I _wasn't_ caught off guard. 

"What's your point, Lily?" I said this as patiently as possible. 

When I start sounding patient, you know _something_ is _definitely_ wrong. Usually, I sound like that because I'm trying desperately to reign in my temper. _Trying_, being the key word. My temper has never liked being reigned in.

"We-ell. . . I made plans with my friends before I invited you, so, you know, Itoldthemyouwouldcome." To anyone else, the last part was nothing but a blur of incoherent words. But, I was Lucius. I heard her. 

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THINGS WIZARD DID YOU DO THAT FOR, WOMAN?" I shouted, jolted into uncharacteristic coarseness. 

Lily gave a muffled squeak.

That was when I, Lucius Malfoy, the Supreme Leader in the Yet Unseen Court of Muggle Haters, relented. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Lucius' Notes:**

Good Day, muggles. As you've noticed, I've changed the regular, _boring_, Author's Notes, to Lucius' Notes. Much nicer sounding, no? Well of course. That muggle girl I have under my employ to type this story down is nowhere to be found. She left a note, saying 'Post Midterm Madness', so I suppose she's finally succumbed to muggle stupidity after all. Her little e-mail box had a few reviews, and I've always had a. . . er, you could call it a soft spot on my cold little heart for reviewers. And so, after laughing cruelly at her love letters (or lack thereof), I set to work, typing the chapter on a terrible muggle object called a kee-board. It's up to your standards, I presume? If not, well, I could always curse you. *evil snicker*

**Again, this is LUCIUS speaking, not the muggle girl. *shudder*** **_Never_ mistake me for a muggle. . . EVER.**

**Dwen**—yes, muggle living was as horrible experience, one which I do not wish to repeat again without Lily. *shudder* 

**Tv-fan-06**-- *bows graciously* I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. 

**Runespoor Oracle**—Apparently, that muggle girl has a sadistic streak. She enjoys keeping people in suspense. *evil smirk* So do I. About the hair, you brew a potion of Armadillo Bile, added to two parts of Carbonated Water, and after you boil it for two minutes, you add in crushed Beetle Brains. Strange, isn't it, that Severus, who _is_ rather good with potions, can't even make this one? Or maybe he likes the greasiness. The spell is a Malfoy family secret, I'm sad to say. The potion will do just fine, however. It's just a tad bit more complicated. 

**Briana Marie**—Lily did all the muggle money exchange for me beforehand *reminiscing Lily smile* I'd like to thank you for all those reviews as well *bows graciously* I'm glad you enjoy the unlikely-ness of our (Me and Lily's) story; surprises are always so much nicer, aren't they? 

**Addy**—Most of this. . . er, 'fluff', you called it? In the story is bittersweet. I suppose it's because I'm the one telling it, and those terrible, sad memories creep in when I'm thinking of the good ones. *bows graciously (I _always_ bow graciously, *smirk*)* Thank you for the review.  

**Jess**—I'm glad you enjoyed the story *smirk (which is as close to a smile as you can get, with Lucius Malfoy)* And thank you very much for reviewing. *bows graciously* 

If I've neglected anyone, I'm very sorry. I'm sure the muggle girl (who staggered in, smelling of intoxication whilst I was typing) is also sorry she didn't type this up earlier. But as I explained, she's succumbed to muggle stupidity, has she not? Poor muggle. *bows graciously _again_* Read, and review.  


	33. The Art of Lying

Chapter 33 

"_When_ are they coming over?" I asked irritably, pacing back and forth on the inhumanly clean white carpet of the Evans' living room. 

"I told you, right before lunch." Lily, unaffected by the nerves that were trying to wring me out to dry, sat primly in her heavy gray skirt and white jumper. Her answer did nothing to soothe me. I picked up a photo (of Petunia and Lily, hand in hand, smiling), and put it back down, before I picked it up again. I put it back down and turned to her.

"Muggles are _so. . ._ odd. Don't they specify at _all_?" 

"'Before lunch' isn't specific?" Her voice had a hint of amusement to its soberness, and what looked suspiciously like a smile was trying to form on her face. I glared at her. Damn her happy little soul, I thought.

"No, it's not; some people have lunch at eleven, some have it at twelve, some even have it at one. A space of three hours is _not_ specific, honestly I don't know wh--" I was interrupted by the doorbell, and loud knocking.

"Oi, Lily, we're freezing our arses out over here! Coming?"

The smile that had been threatening to break loose finally emerged, flashed patronizingly in my direction.

"See, they're here." I got up reluctantly, trudging slowly behind her brisk steps. 

Halfway down the hall, I realized something. 

HAD I ALREADY GONE _DAFT_ WITH MUGGLE LIVING? 

I was Lucius Malfoy. I wasn't supposed to be _afraid_ of muggles, they were supposed to be _afraid_ of me. The same thing went for nervousness. I would be my charming self. 

My self-assurances, petty though they were, were enough for me, because five steps from the door, I'd gotten back to normal. 

"This is Lucius?" Lily was saying. All thoughts of charm flew out of my head; that wasn't Lily, but it was. . . she looked almost _exactly_ like Lily, save for her blue eyes.

"Yes, he is," the _real_ Lily with _green _eyes said, smiling that smile she must have reserved as a prefect for skittish first-years. 

"I am." What else was I supposed to say? I reached forward and shook her (the unknown Lily-look-alike) hand, amazed (only on the inside, of course) at the difference, and, at the same time, the similarity: the girls' hands were soft, like Lily's, but her fingernails were painted a bright, shocking pink. Lily never wore nail polish. 

"I'm Madeleine, but call me Nad." 

"Nad," I said in acknowledgement, smiling politely. Introductions were thrown back and forth at lightning speed.

"Lucius, this is Jillian, Jillian, Lucius," I took this as my cue to shake hands with the said Jillian, and I had hardly finished when another hand was offered to be shook.

"I'm Johnson, nice to meet you, mate." A male voice said, as I shook his hand. 

"Evelyn, but I prefer Evee," a melodic someone said, from somewhere in the back. 

"I thought you were freezing your arses off, shouldn't we go now?" Lily's voice interrupted through the frenzy.

The large group trod off, chattering, to something called a 'car', which was to be 'driven' by Johnson.  

The four girls, giggling and chirping like a myriad of newly hatched chicks, slid (no, _squeezed_) into the back seat. 

"Sit up front, let's let the girls have their talk, yeah?" Johnson said. I nodded, hardly understanding anything but the words 'girls' and 'talk' through his heavy, Scottish burr. 

"So what school do you guys go to?" 

"Hogwarts." I answered promptly, watching the scenery pass by. I felt so oddly out of place. _Muggles_. I shuddered and turned my attention to wheel Johnson was using to steer the vehicle.

"Er—what?" Oh, right, he knew nothing about wizards, now did he?

"Uh, erm, that's a phrase of mine, I go, 'Hogwarts' instead of, erm, 'Blimey' or something." Unfortunately, I seemed to have let some of Lily's horrible lying skills rub off on me. I tried again. "I go to Francis Academy for Boys," I said, mustering up as much pride as was humanly possible in that situation. 

"Eh? Doesn't Lily go to St. Whatever? I thought you went to the same school?" 

Luckily, by this time, my lying skills had revved up to their full potential.

"My mistake," the phrase was unfamiliar on my tongue (as were many other self-condeming phrases), but I ignored this and pressed on, "You see, I'm a senior, so to me, the school was St. Francis' Academy for Boys for around two years, until they started accepting girls, and then it just became St. Francis' Academy. Still haven't gotten used to the new name." 

He nodded, his eyes on the road, and I sunk back into the chair. 

Ten whole minutes of unbearable silence. 

And you all know how I am with unbearable silences.. 

I had to do something. 

_Anything_.

"Where are we going?" This was the start of my frail attempt at conversation.

 Johnson's reply was hardly understandable, his mumbles even worse than Crabbe's. And that was definitely saying something. The only phrase I understood was "we're almost there anyway." 

"So, where did you meet Jillian?" Lily _had_ mentioned something about Jillian yesterday, and Johnson. Hadn't she? 

"Weel, me brother knew her from school, and I'd met her once or twice before, I talked to her, and things just started from there," he explained, his Scots accent broadening even further, if that was possible.

"Ah," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"So you play Rugby?" Rugby? Wasn't that some sort of muggle rubber cement? The one they used to glue shoe soles together? Poor things knew nothing of _reparo_ spells, did they?

"Er, Rugby?" I stalled. My mind instantly dissected his first few phrases, for clues. He'd asked me if I'd _played_ Rugby; it must have been a game of some sort. He would have brought up that subject only if he'd enjoyed 'playing' the sport itself, and, from the reddish skin on his face, it was obvious this was 'played' outdoors. "I'm not really the outdoor sports type." 

"What do you do then?" Apparently, to this pathetically unsophisticated muggle, there were only two things in life: Rugy, and Non-rugby. 

"I—I'm a—" Thank evilness Lily butted in at that exact moment. 

Women, and perfect timing. 

  
"He's a musician." 

Of course, I choked. And choking, without talking, and without any water or choke-able liquids to choke on, was, to me, quite a feat.

"Yeah? So is me brother, Sean. What instrument do ye play?" Again, Lily answered for me (good thing she did; I understood _nothing_ he said). 

"The drums, and a bit of the piano too, right Lucius?" I nodded numbly.

Where on earth had she learned to lie like that? 

The answer came almost immediately. 

Me-- who else? 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Author's Notes:**

Hey! I'm back :D It's a miracle I finally finished this chapter; with my horrible bouts of writer's block, and Lucius shouting at me every other second (he got angry when I staggered into my room, very inebriated; he thinks [rightly enough] that drinking kills my brain cells, and I might ruin his story if I turn brain dead in the middle of it; such concern for me, no?). And that 'thank evilness' thing is like 'thank goodness' in Lucius terms. Hmm. . . I don't have much to say, since I'm still recovering from the unfortunate Sims Addiction I've obtained recently. 

*turns to the sulking Lucius behind her* "I know, I know, it was my fault entirely. I won't do it again."

*Lucius glares* "You'd better not. You know how long it took me to type that chapter?"

*Author looks sheepish* 

*Lucius is unrelenting* "Five hours. Five, bloody hours, wasted inside a muggle house, touching (Touching!) muggle objects." 

"I swear, I won't do it again."

*Lucius sniffs in an evilly-forgiving way* Of course you won't. 

Thank You's 

**Dwen**—Thanks :D No Petunia this chapter, but there's more to come, I promise J And a bit of Vernon too, bwehehehe. I love teasers. It's Lucius, he's really rubbing off on me. And that's a good thing J

**Diabla666**—Hehehe, I loved that line too J I asked Lucius why he put 'close to perfection', when he's supposed to _believe _he's beyond perfect, but he gave me an enigmatic smile, and said 'Lily is perfection'. Aww, isn't that sweet?

**Chelli**—thank you thank you! J I hope this chapter's ending is good enough, it hangs a bit, I'm sad to say, but the next chapter is titled 'The Pub', and, if I merged both chapters together, it would have taken an infinitely long time to finish L While I was reading your review, Lucius *points to the criminally handsome wizard behind her, who is currently flipping through her Calvin and Hobbes Comic Book Collection* gave me a very smug smile when he read the part about him 'bringing himself across so well in words'. *sigh* Smugness, arrogance, and aristocratic pureblood features *sighs again* What more could you ask for? 

**Addy**—Yes, he's finally allowed me to speak, as long as I don't block him out of the Author's Notes entirely J He says he wants people to remember it's _him_ writing, and not me. And it was horrible teaching him now to use the computer; My poor computer crashed ten times while he tried to use _magic_ to press the start button on the desktop. I tried to explain the use of the mouse to him, but he seems to believe quite fervently that the 'mouse' is a _real_ mouse, albeit in muggle form. *shakes head* And so he refuses to touch it. He doesn't seem to mind the keyboard very much, though. *shrugs* Wizards. 

**Redchickadie**—thank you for reviewing, and I'm glad you like the story J Lucius says thanks too.

**Sarah**—Lucius is _deeply_ sorry, to the very roots of his perfect person, at having forgotten you. And you _know_ how he hates saying sorry. And I _did_ review! Twice! Then again, that _was_ a while ago. . . I'll check it out and review soon, promise! J In response to your evil look, Lucius says 'hmm, she's learning quite well'. J _That_ from the King of Evil Looks himself!

**AJRoald**—Yay, new reader! J Thank you J

**Anastacia-Gwydion**—You have a very cool name J Amen to that: Hail Lucius Malfoy; Utterly Gorgeous Man. *sigh* Have you written your fic yet? I'm eager to read _any_ Lucius Fic *sighs, and flutters eyelashes at Lucius, who is completely oblivious to her attentions* Thanks for reviewing! J


	34. Pubs, Burgers, and Coke

**Chapter 34**

The pub was, from afar, disgustingly dirty. 

Upon closer inspection, however, I found it was. . . 

_still_ disgustingly dirty. 

And I'd thought muggles were, at most, half-civilized creatures. 

Johnson was parking the car, and the others were in the restroom. Ah, time alone with Lily; what I'd been wanting since this little trip had begun. 

I moved over to where she stood (it _was_ Lily; I glanced discreetly at her eyes first), and whispered, "You're sure about this place?" 

She laughed softly. "Of course I am. They don't make food this good anywhere else, Lucius."

"And all that mold is just their secret spice, is it?" I muttered sarcastically under my breath. Lily, who had ears like a fox and eyes like a cat, gave me soft nudge and a glare (another thing she'd learned from me, obviously).

"Trust me, all right?" I sent her a skeptical look. She gave a comical sigh. "I'd trust _you_ with my life, so at least trust me with your stomach." 

No, she wouldn't have said that, if she'd known what I was going to be soon. A Death Eater. _You shall kill a muggle, or a mudblood, of my choice,_ Lord Voldemort's words echoed in my mind. Again, I shook it off. I always did. 

I'd made up my mind, before this, that I was going to enjoy (or, at least, _try_ to enjoy) my last few uncorrupted days with Lily. And I would. 

If the food didn't kill me first.

"I trust you, but, frankly," I gestured toward the decrepit watering hole, "I don't trust your taste." 

"This from a man who refuses to buy robes under twenty galleons?" She raised an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged, placing an arm casually around her shoulder.

"I _like_ dressing myself in finery; you blame me for it?" 

I received a soft poke in the chest.

"_Yes_, you arrogant snob," she said affectionately. 

"_Well_, my uncouth little cretin," I said, just as affectionately, "at least I don't _buy_ robes second hand." She gasped.

"I do NOT—" What she _didn't_ do, I never found out (though I _did_ have a fairly good idea of what she was going to say, my being the one who provoked her in the first place), because Jillian, back from the restroom, barged in. 

"Much as I hate to interrupt this rather adorable lover's argument, my stomach's growling. Food time, anyone? Everyone's already inside." Lily blushed furiously, and I smirked. One point for me. 

"You know, as well as anyone, that I do _not_ get second hand robes!" She hissed, loud enough only for me to hear.

"I never said you did." I said, feigning surprise. She turned a pretty shade of pink. 

Had I mentioned before how much I enjoyed getting her angry? Probably.

"You know, as well as I do, that you were _implying _it!"

"Was I?" 

"Yes, you--" I grabbed her by the waist, and planted a quick kiss on her lips. I didn't do this to keep her quiet; I truly enjoyed bantering with her, really, I did, but it just couldn't be helped.

Jillian, who had turned around to watch our amazingly sluggish movement toward the bar, rolled her eyes in amusement.

Lily, on the other hand, was not so amused. Her eyes widened in shock (how she did this, when she was responding quite eagerly to my kiss, I don't know). 

"You, you, you--" she sputtered, unable to find a single word on the considerable expanse of her vocabulary to describe me. 

"Arrogantly brutish snob?" I offered. 

"Arrogantly brutish snob," she agreed un-heatedly, linking her arms with mine. 

And so we walked into 'The Pub' (this was completely anonymous, the name being covered in so much grime that it was unintelligible). 

"Took ye long enough," Johnson said loudly, once we had found their table. 

"They were a little. . . _busy_," Jillian said just as loudly. Lily turned that lovely shade of pink all over again, and I gave myself a mental note to thank Jillian for making her blush.

"Aye, weel, nothing we havena done before, no?" said Johnson, muzzling his face in Jillian's neck. She giggled.

"Definitely not." 

Someone at the table cleared their throat. It was Lil—Nad. Her eyes were blue, not green, I reminded myself. 

"Well, those of us who haven't turned into horribly lovesick little puppies want _food_." She looked somewhere over my shoulder, nodded, and, within moments, a waitress had managed to wade (over the surprisingly dense crowd of patrons) to our table. 

"An' what would you be liking?" 

Unlike myself, I noted, everyone else had no need to refer to the menu. They'd already memorized it.

"Hamburger, with a side order of potatoes." 

"Same here, but make it mashed potatoes."

"Steak, medium rare, mashed potatoes, extra gravy."

There were a few more choruses of who-knew-what, before the waitress turned to me. 

"Uh, er--" I stalled. To tell the truth, I had no idea what kind of food they served to muggles, even _with_ the menu. What on earth were _burgers_? They all looked at me expectantly. I pointed to Lily. "Same thing she's having." 

"Tha'll be a burger then," she nodded, scribbled hastily onto her notepad, and looked up again. "Drinks?" 

"Water"

"Coke"

"Coke" 

"Coke"

And what was _Coke_? This was the customary muggle drink, I assumed. Well, _I_ wasn't a muggle. I would have water, just to be safe. As I opened my mouth, to say my order, Lily beat me to it. 

"We'll both have coke." 

Once the mysterious beverage arrived, my heart (along with my stomach, liver and other vital organs) sank.

Oh, absolutely wonderful. I was going to have my innards churned to butter by a dubiously dark, hopelessly acidic, muggle drink; the worst adjective so far being the word 'muggle'. 

Lily took a ladylike sip, and smiled at me encouragingly. 

"Try it." She whispered.

"What's in it?" I whispered—no—_hissed_ back.  

"Sugar, Carbonated Water, Caffeine, etcetera. Sort of like Butterbeer." I arched an eyebrow, and took a cautious sip. Save for the momentary instant my tongue burned, the drink _was_ rather good. 

Not that I was going to admit it. 

Malfoy's never admitted they were wrong; not even to themselves. 

I pushed the drink away in apparent revulsion. 

"Butterbeer's better."     

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   **

**Author's Notes:**

I know I promised Petunia and Vernon to pop up in this chapter, but, as I typed away with Lucius hissing instructions into my ear, I found out they didn't. They'll be there by the next chapter. I know it took a pretty long time for this chapter to come out, but it's not _my_ fault, it's Lucius'! He's already begun telling me about how Lily's story should be like (yes, I've decided on a Lily's POV sequel, which starts pretty much _after_ Lucius. . . *sob* *sob*), and strangely enough, I've finished around three chapters of it already. Of course, it's pretty useless since I can't post the sequel with out finishing this *apologetic smile*

**Thank You's:**

**Briana Marie**—J I read a bit of your story, and Petunia and Lily _are_ sweet J I think she must have been like that, until *scary music* Lily found out she was a witch J *gasp*

**Black Snow**—thanks for reviewing! J

**Dwen**—aww, L Poor Dwen, hope you're feeling better! Then again, you probably _are_ better, by the time I've posted this. Lucius *who is, currently, sulking behind me and trying to play with my guitar strings* wishes you well too. J 

**Jess**—thanks for the long review! J I'm glad you like the story. Yes, Lucius is absolutely _wonderful_ to look at, especially when he's in a rage. *sigh* I could stare at him for hours. *cough cough* Of course, because of my vacant stares, he gets even angrier, and rants even longer, about my lack of attention, and, I have no idea _how_ this got included, my clothes as well. Hmm. J 

**Anastacia-Gwydion**—I'm rushing off to read your story the instant I upload this J 

**Addy—**Thank you! There's a reason I made her look like Lily. . . You'll know why in a few more chapters, but see if you can figure it out now J Belated Happy Birthday, by the way! (from me and Lucius) J I'm glad you like the chapter endings; I try to make them sound as witty as possible, but I thought this chapter's ending was a bit. . . plain L Oh well, can't get em' all! J 


	35. And so I meet the Dursley Creature

**Chapter 35**

Around three hours later, I stepped back into the Evans' home, exhausted. All right, all right, that _might_ have been a bit of an overstatement. Physically, I was fine. Emotionally. . . well, that was a whole other level. I'd been forced (convinced, really,) to eat muggle _burgers _(which turned out to be a slab of beef sandwiched between two slices of round bread; couldn't muggles just call them beef sandwiches? Pathetic little creatures with complex little minds, weren't they?), to drink muggle _coke_ (not _as_ horrible as the word seemed to suggest), and to watch muggle _pictures_. 

It had been quite a shock, really, when Lily told me. Had muggles finally managed to smuggle disturbingly large wizard pictures into theatre houses? 

"It's a _film_, Lucius." Lily had tried to explain. She went on and on, whispering all the while, about projectors and light, and, the _film_. 

"Wizard camera film?" I'd asked. She'd been exasperated, and so had I. So much for understanding muggles. 

"Today wasn't _that_ horrible, was it? Muggles aren't that bad." Lily was saying (for the umpteenth time), as we entered the kitchen. 

"They're. . . tolerable. There. That's the closest thing to a compliment I'll ever give." Her brow furrowed in annoyance, but my answer seemed to satisfy her. . . for the time being.

Now it was _my_ turn to ask questions. 

"Lily. . . I noticed a certain. . . _resemblance_ between you and. . . Madeleine. Are you two. . . oh, I don't know, _twins_, or something?" I'd wanted to know this for a while now, but I'd forgotten it in the shock of muggle culture. 

She laughed. The laugh that was brighter than a hundred of her smiles. It took her a full ten seconds to recover. Hell, it took me an _hour_. 

"_Everyone_ says that. We're related, see, Mother's father—my grandfather—is her grandfather's twin, and the rest is quite confusing, but it results in us looking very much like each other. Does it bother you? To see someone who looks so much like me, but acts so differently?" she was joking, of course, but I felt I _had_ to answer. 

"Bother me? No. . . not necessarily. . . I just find it odd. It's like seeing your evil twin, you know? I haven't gotten used to it, is all." She raised an eyebrow. 

"Evil?" I smirked at the expression on her face. 

"Just call her your eccentric counterpart." I leaned closer to her and smirked. 

"And _I'm_ not eccentric? I thought _I_ was the witch," she teased. 

"Well, maybe you _are_ eccentric. Just a little." I leaned even closer. Dived in for the kill, you might say.

Unfortunately, as I forgot, this was _not_ Hogwarts. And, unlike Hogwarts, every part of this small house seemed to be within reach of the dreaded Adult Supervision. _Very_ unfortunate. 

You know what happened, don't you? 

Lily's mother came in, just as I was a mere _centimeter_ away from her daughter's lips. Dammit. 

"Oh dear, hope you two aren't up to anything," she said, bustling around the kitchen. "And you have to change out of those clothes! Petunia's young man is coming to visit for dinner. Vernon Dursley, wonderful man, really. Not that you aren't, Lucius," she added quickly, turning to me. "You're wonderful too, in your own way." 

How embarrassing, to be compared to a _muggle._ And, as I learned later, an _obese_ muggle at that. 

As always, Lily managed to pull me out of embarrassment. 

"We'd better be going then, bye mum." She grabbed my hand and led me out of the kitchen.  

In the hall, she shook her head. "Vernon? This is going to be disastrous," she muttered continuously. 

"Why? What's so disastrous about him?" We'd entered my room, and I began the slow, tedious task of picking my clothes. I decided to go with the black; black was much more. . . _forbidding_. 

And you _know_ how I love looking forbidding in front of muggles.  

"He's. . . well, he's been going. . .er. . . _steady_ with Petunia for a while now, and he's her fiancé. . . and. . .she. . . well, you know, she. . .I mean, you see, she. . ." around this time, I'd gotten tired with Lily's stalling. I put my hands, as gently as I could, on her shoulders, and looked her straight in the eye. She looked away. Haha, I _knew_ it. 

"What? Just say it. Don't draw it out." 

"Shetoldhimaboutus." My eyebrows rose. What was so wrong about this 'Vernon' creature knowing about Lily and me?

"So?" 

She stomped her foot in obvious frustration. 

"No, not _us us, Us." The way she'd said it made it sound like the word 'us' with a capital U. _

"Ah, Us." I paused. "Us, meaning?" I still hadn't gotten the point. 

"Our _world." She whispered. Then, I understood. _

"And?" 

"He didn't like it one bit. He looks at me like I've got a disease, and he treats me like. . . like _trash, or something, and that hurts. . . not the way he treats me. . .but the fact that Petunia. . . _allows_ it. . . I think she even __encourages it. They don't like Us at all. So. . . just be prepared. Dinner won't be. . . _pleasant_." _

My gentle hold on her shoulders tightened. 

"Lily. You're a witch. Muggle born, but who cares? And _I'm a wizard. I told you, we should be the ones looking down on __them--" she interrupted me. If anyone but Lily had done that, they would have been hexed into the next century. _

"No, see, Lucius, that's my point. Why all this discrimination? It's not. . . right. We're all equal. Muggles do things Wizards don't even dream about, and vice versa. We're all special, and different, in our own way. And isn't difference good? Isn't diversity good?" 

I shrugged. My turn.

"That's all very well, but wizards were here before muggles were; they're invading our territory, now we have to _hide_ from them? They _should know, they should __fear, and they should be the ones that hide from __us--"_

She sighed. 

"Lucius, muggles came from Squibs, right? That's what Professor Binns said? And, over the course of time, they forgot about us, except that time in the dark ages and all the useless witch-hunts, but, whatever, this isn't a history lesson. My point is muggles _are_ practically Squibs." 

"Well, yes, I treat muggles and Squibs pretty much the same way, thank you." Like dirt, of course, but I didn't add that part.  

"Like trash." Dammit, had she read my mind again? "And Iole? You treated _her like trash?" _

I let go of her. 

"She was my _sister. That was different." _

"No it wasn't! Does that mean you only treat people 'specially' because you care for them? So, what, you'll start calling me Mudblood again, when you stop caring?" 

I glared at her. 

"I won't." 

"Start calling me a mudblood? Or stop caring?" 

"Both." 

She hugged me, so small against my frame, she seemed like a child. She _was too thin. I made a mental note to shovel more food into her. _

 Her voice was also childlike, as were her questions, when she spoke, muffled against my sweater. 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

She looked up at me, her eyes penetrating so deeply, I almost looked away. I didn't want her to _know the dark secrets I kept. If she did--_

"So you'll stop discriminating muggles then?" Bugger this. She was asking me to _change myself? Hell no. But I didn't say __that. In my opinion, there were much too many things I kept myself from saying._

"I'll. . . _try." This was the closest I could get to not lying. _

"You'll _try?" She pulled away. "What's so hard about it?"_

"Lily, you're asking me to _forsake_ everything I've learned since I was a child? You're asking me to _defy_ the very rules that make me a Malfoy? I'm defying enough for you as it is, with this relationship!" 

" 'If it's not good, spit it all out.'," she quoted solemnly. "If you've got worms in your apples," (I really had to teach her better metaphors, hers were much too brash), "you don't pick out the worms and eat the apple, do you? You just throw the thing away! Well, unless you're _really_ desperate, but you know what I mean, Lucius. If everything you learned is bad, spit it out. If.. . ." she took a deep breath, "if you think this relationship isn't good, then you can spit it out too."  

"I think it's fine." A thought came into my head, and I looked at her suspiciously. "Do you?" 

"I do." Ah, well, as much as I would have wanted our little argument to end there, it didn't. I wouldn't let her off the hook that easily.

"And everything I've learned; what makes you think it's bad? An expert on Morality now, are we?" She glared; this was quite a day for glares. 

"NO, but anything that has to do with harming people isn't good." 

"So, putting the Avada on death row criminals in Azkaban isn't good? Because it hurts people? Isn't there a greater good?" 

"There's a greater good, and there's a greater bad! What's so hard to see? Hurting people like that, and using the 'greater good' theory, it's just an excuse! Lucius, you, I mean, I can't believe. . . and how could. . . Argh!" she threw her hands up in the air, at a loss for words. She eyed my black jumper with great distain, and growled (yes, she actually _growled_ at me), "wear the white." 

And _that was the end of our argument. Don't get the wrong idea; this was, by no means, _truly_ over. We were just having a temporary, truce. _

"So, Miss Lily, do _I get to choose what you wear later? Because that little black number you have in your closet--" She gasped. _

"How did you--"

I shrugged. "Research, my dear; but it would look a bit more decent if you wore _something_ over it; wouldn't want that Vernon creature ogling at you all dinner. A knit, maybe. _Anything, as long as you look good, which you probably will; we're going to __dazzle the bejesus out of those wizard-hating fools." _

She smiled (somewhat _evilly_, I noticed; almost a smirk). 

"That we are." 

An hour later, the entire household, myself included, were sitting in the living room. Petunia was dressed all in pink, and she looked. . . _glowing_ was the word, really. 

Then again, it could just as well have been the make up. 

In fact, it probably _was_ the make up. 

Besides, Lily was more beautiful. She's taken my. . . _advice_. And, as always, Malfoy advice was priceless. She looked evil enough, in the black, but innocent as well. She always looked that way. 

Her innocence was something that stayed with her until the day she died. 

I'm getting ahead of myself, let me continue the story. 

Petunia was simpering to her parents, gushing on and on about this 'Vernon' fellow. 

"Oh mum, isn't it wonderful how Vern's _always_ on time?" 

"His sister is_ goodness_ incarnated! All those poor orphan dogs she takes care of!" 

"Did you know he just got promoted in this company? Oh, you've heard of it, haven't you? The drill company?" 

Lily and I gave each other nearly identical smirks (mine was better, of course, what were you thinking?). Petunia was so. . . awestruck. 

Sure enough, by seven o'clock _sharp_, the doorbell rang. 

"See? Always on time." She wouldn't have been so amazed at his punctuality if she'd sat where I had, where it was rather obvious he'd been standing at the door for a full five minutes, checking his watch (which was, no doubt, synchronized with the one inside) until it was _just_ the right time. If he hadn't been a muggle, I would have felt sorry for it—_him_, I mean. He lived to impress people.  

"Vern, darling!" Lily's mother opened the door, and gave the said Vernon (who happened to be the size of a _whale_, might I add) not-touching cheek kisses. 

"Hello there, Miss Evans," he boomed. "How's Mr. Evans?" 

"Vernon, haven't seen you in a while, Petunia's just been telling us, got into Grunnings, have you?" 

"Yes, I have, best darn company they have here, in Surrey." 

"I'm sure it is." 

"I smell something wonderful, is that turkey?" The bastard. He hadn't even greeted Lily! Or acknowledged her existence. And I _knew_ for a fact, that, unless this man's olfactory senses were superhuman, he smelled nothing. Petunia must have tipped him off, that little she-dog—

"Why, it is! How ever did you know?" Lily's mother had fallen for the trap. 

The Vernon creature (emphasis on the creature) shrugged this all off, basking in what _he_ thought was glory. Fool. 

"Well, smells delicious; then again, everything here _always_ smells delicious."

Mrs. Evans giggled. "Really Vernon, you flatter me too much." I was very tempted to tell her that flattery was _always_ the best policy; _especially_ to the mother of the girl you were snogging. 

This brought up the _very_ disturbing image of this Dursley fellow on top of Petunia. _Very_ disturbing. 

Merlin, it was _disgusting._

_* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *_

**Lucius' Notes:**

Miss me? I know you did. I hope (translation: I'm SURE) you liked this chapter. I'm quite disappointed in the minimal amount of reviews I've received, however, for the last chapter. Then again, it must have been the muggle girls' fault, as it took her so long to update. On my honor (as both a Slytherin _and_ a Malfoy), I shall (or *shudder* _we_ shall) update at _least_ once a week. 

**Thank Yous:**

REMEMBER, ALL THANK YOUS ARE MADE MY YOURS TRULY, Mr. MALFOY *smirk*

**Sarah**—Disgusting; school's started? Well, at least there are more muggle teachers to hex. Would you like me to hex some of yours? Of course, that depends on Cornelius' present gullibility rate. . . the man loves believing in me; I know he does. . . it's just that old fool of a headmaster that keeps getting in my bloody way! As for Madeleine, and _why_ she looks like Lily. . . well, you'll see soon enough J 

**Addy**—You can always blame the muggle girl-writer if this took too long; she's been off enjoying her week long vacation. *tsks evilly* As for the two reasons you gave? *bwahahaha* One of them is true. _One_ of them. *smirks* *is smug* Wouldn't tell you which, though. Just keep both reasons 'under wraps', as you muggles like to say. I wouldn't want anything to get out prematurely, now would I? *bwahahaha*

**Briana Marie**—Ah, Briana. *bows in an evil-yet-hot way* I've read your story. Congratulations, you've really kept me in character. This chapter shows how much I dislike squibs, and all manner or muggle/semi-muggle filth. *shudder* Not that Lily's _filth_, you understand. . . Your thoughts on Lily's possibly non-muggle parentage are quite interesting. I'd never know though, her parents seemed muggle enough when I met them, but that could just as well have been a ruse. *shrugs* I'm glad you liked my. . . er. . . _reactions_ to muggle food and drink. As previously said, they weren't that horrible. . . just. . . _odd_. *shakes head (evilly!! Don't forget EVILLY)* 


	36. Visitors

Chapter 36

The very fact that Lilian Evans cooked disturbingly good food that I _was_ familiar with (no burgers, or pizza, thank goodness) would have been enough to keep me happy. 

Let me rephrase that.

It would have been enough to keep me as happy as I could possibly have gotten, given the 'muggle-situation'. (That was something I wasn't going to mention to Lily, of course; she still seemed a bit sore after the argument we'd had earlier). 

But, _no_, there was definitely something out there determined to keep Lucius Malfoy _unhappy_. And that _thing_ could only be Vernon Dursley. 

And, worse, there was only one thing wrong with this Dursley creature. 

And that was _everything_. (**Lucius' Notes**: Grammar considers this singular, doesn't it? Ha. Beat that.) 

He was the embodiment of muggle horror. I'd thought that sales clerk had been horrible enough. If _he_ was horrible, then Dursley was a hundred times that. 

He was the muggle-est of the muggles. The holder of all traits I found disgusting. He was, to put it gently, _The_ Muggle. 

I hope the italicization hasn't been lost on you. 

The dinner got off as I'd predicted it would: to a _very_ bad start. 

"If you don't mind, Mrs. Evans, could _I_ have the honor of saying Grace?" Having had dinner with the Evans family before, I'd been aware what exactly 'saying grace' was. A prayer. 

Of course, coming from Dursley and his snout-of-a-mouth, it had seemed more than a little blasphemous. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning in the middle of it. Unfortunately, (as Lily told me) God worked in mysterious ways. And, obviously, roasting Dursley to a crisp in the Evans' dining room in front of everyone wasn't considered very mysterious.  

"Father in heaven," he began, taking a peek around the room to see if everyone else's eyes were closed (mine certainly weren't; I had no religion, and so I didn't participate in the prayer). "We thank you for this food, this wonderful dinner, prepared by the ever-lovely Mrs. Evans. . . I thank you for my beautiful, understanding, _normal _fiancée, Petunia," (at this, Petunia sighed, 'Oh Vernie', before realizing that she was supposed to be praying; what was wrong with the woman? _Normal_ wasn't a compliment, it was an _insult_), "we pray _urgently_ for Mr. Evans, who is, unfortunately, too unwell to join us tonight. . . we pray for _those_ here who have not seen The Light," (who, Lily and me? And how come that sounded more like an insult than a sincere wish?), "Amen." 

The meal went on quite uneventfully, with Vernon and Petunia tossing rude comments in our direction (disguised for Mrs. Evans' benefit, of course, as the occasional snippet of conversation), but, mostly just ignoring us. 

Now, I know, I should really have done just as Lily had told me earlier. 

Nothing. 

But I wasn't a Malfoy for nothing, you know. I was a Malfoy because I was a man of action. I _couldn't_ just sit there, and let all my dignity and pride be stamped on--then again, I suspected it was physically impossible for Dursley to stamp--_rolled_ was the word, really (he could at _least_ do that, couldn't he?). 

So, halfway through dinner, I decided to _do_ something. I felt I'd done enough for Lily by keeping quiet for half the dinner and by not transfiguring him into the potato he so deserved to be. 

"Please pass the salt." I directed this at The Muggle (I refer to him as this). I'd left the bait. . . but would he bite? Bwahahaha. Of course he would. He was Dursley, for evil's sake. The pathetic muggle had _no _idea what was coming. For my little plan to succeed. . . all he _would_ have to do was nothing. Absolutely _nothing_. How hard could that be for him? 

And, as I suspected, he went on ignoring me, as he'd done all night. 

Wonderful.

I almost crowed with delight. 

Lily seemed to be absorbed with her paper napkin. So, she thought The Muggle had this coming too, did she? Well, so did I. 

Before I. . . _reveal_ to you what happened, let me first explain something. 

Wizarding law, in all its Grace and Wonder, seems to protect muggles more than it does wizards. I suppose it's similar to those Animal Rights things muggles have; the need to protect something weaker and far less intelligent. So, unless I wanted to spend a week in Azkaban, I couldn't do anything particularly dangerous. (Well, I could, Father could get me out before anyone could say 'dementor', but I preferred to spare him the trouble).

And I was a Slytherin. 

While some of us may be known to be a bit. . . 'slow on the uptake', you might say, (**Lucius' Notes**: *cough cough* Crabbe *cough cough* Goyle), the majority of us were cunning. And it didn't take much of that talent to know I would be in Mrs. Evans' bad books the instant I lay a finger—or a curse—on Vernon Dursley.

And, it didn't take much either to know how to manipulate something as simple and un-enigmatic as The Muggle. 

I had a way of making things look like other people's mistakes. And, not for the first time, I thanked 'whatever was up there' for it. 

As I trust I've explained my future actions satisfactorily enough, I continue the story. 

The Dursley creature still hadn't moved an inch. From my calculations, that was, in fact, all he would have had to move; the salt was right in front of him. 

But he didn't. 

Perfect. 

I took it out. 

My wand. 

(**Lucius' Notes**: not _that_ wand, don't be perverted)

The reaction was instantaneous. Dursley turned an interesting shade of purple, and Petunia turned an interesting shade of white. Mrs. Evans just looked a bit surprised. One point for me. 

"_Accio _salt." The salt zoomed towards me, but not before brushing by The Muggle's sleeve, causing him to turn an even _more_ interesting shade of purple before he pulled back his hand as if it had been burned. 

Amazing how words can be, don't you think? Two words could get that reaction from Dursley. I wondered what the word 'Crucio' would do. 

A lot more, probably.     

Ah, it _was_ fun to be a wizard. 

Shame they outlawed muggle hunting in the fourteenth century. 

This was so. . . _fun_. 

Well, the fun was just starting. 

"I really love this spell, don't _you_, Lils? I mean, I would never have to stand up for anything again." I purposefully made my tone conversational. 

"Oh, absolutely. I learned it last year, and I've been using it ever since. I can't wait until I get older, you know, past that Degree of Underage Wizardry." The sparkle in her eyes told me she understood _perfectly_ well what I was doing. . . and she _liked_ it. I never understood _why_ they didn't place her in Slytherin; she was just as clever and sneaky as I was, given the right incentive.

"And when exactly _is_ that, love?" Her mother asked. Now Petunia and Vernon were out of the conversation. They looked like they'd both eaten something incredibly sour. 

"Seventeenth birthday, mum. I can't wait!" Lilian Evans turned to me 

"How old are you, Lucius? Seventh year, right? You must be seventeen then?" I smiled, and shook my head. 

"Eighteen. I went to Durmstrang for around a term a while back. Interesting place."

"Durmstrang?" 

"It's a wizarding school," I explained. Then, I paused, noticing something. Dursley and Petunia both seemed to grimace the instant I said the word 'wizarding'. Hmm. I could _definitely_ use this to my advantage. "Of course, Hogwarts School of _Witchcraft _and _Wizardry_, aren't the only _wizarding_ schools around, there's _Beauxbatons_, and that's somewhere in France. There are a lot of _wizarding_ schools, actually, but Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons are the best." My suspicions were right on target. 

What did they find so scary about the word 'wizarding' and 'witchcraft?  

I mean, _yes,_ I disliked muggles and their sorry race, but I didn't really _shudder_ when I heard the word 'muggle'. They weren't worth shuddering over. 

"Where _is_ Durmstrang? Do schools only send letters to the vicinity around them?"

"Well," I explained, "every time a magical child is born, their names are written in a book, and when they reach the age when magic manifests itself, which is eleven, then they start their schooling. Each school has a book, which only lists down names from certain places, else we'd be getting hundreds of letters from different schools. Durmstrang is unplottable, meaning it can't be plotted on any map. Although, judging from their accents, I think they're somewhere in Eastern Europe. Romania, Bulgaria, Hungary, the like." I smiled at her. 

She was a muggle, but some muggles were nice. Others were just plain stupid. 

Like Dursley. 

*~*~*~*~*~**Later**~*~*~*~*~*

"Horrible, wasn't he?" Lily commented, as I walked her to her room. 

"Very. Did you notice though, how he looked like a prune when he turned purple? I didn't _know_ people could turn purple. I thought they could turn blue, and red, but. . . well, Dursley must be a special case." 

She laughed, and stopped at her door. 

"Good night." She turned to step into her room, but she looked at me one last time, her eyes soft. "You know, I wish it could be like this at Hogwarts. You, dropping me off in the Gryffindor Common Room, _without_ having to wear an invisibility cloak, and _without_ fear of being beaten to a pulp by my house mates. It's just. . . I don't know." She smiled at me again, and, impulsively, gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and a hug. "I love you." 

My voice, strangely hoarse, whispered back an "I love you too". She looked over her shoulder, and smiled at me. This smile was. . . different. It looked sad. What made her sad? _Who_ made her sad? I'd hex them into the next _millennia_. No one made her sad. 

Little did I know _then_, that I was threatening to hex _myself_ into the next millennia. Because _I _was the one she was shedding her tears at night over. 

As usual, I've gotten ahead of myself. Let us return to the past. 

Just as I'd gotten myself settled in my bed, ready to sleep, a sharp rapping on the door roused me. 

Too tired to get up and open the door myself, I waved my wand, and let magic do its work. 

Surprisingly, it was Petunia. She turned a shade of pink when she saw I was wearing nothing but my boxers. 

Well, of _course_ the sight of me was enough to awe anyone into embarrassment. 

"Lucius," she said once she had recovered, not bothering to hide the revulsion in her voice. Ah, how I _loved_ little verbal banters. 

"Petunia," I arched an inquiring eyebrow. "You can ignore the _pleasantries_." I said the last word with sarcasm. The word 'pleasant' and 'Petunia' didn't belong in the same sentence. 

"Good. Lucius, _Lily_ is my sister. And, much as I despise her, I despise you even more. You're a _vile_ creature that doesn't even deserve a name. It's a shame you look so handsome. But just—just stay _away_ from my sister. I don't want her getting more corrupted than she already is." So she thought I was handsome, did she? And she thought _Lily_ was corrupted? _LILY?_

"Was this supposed to be a threat?" 

"It _is_ a threat. Stay away from her."

"Or what? Are you going to kill me with something magic can't protect, _muggle_? Is ickle Vernie going to come over and beat me to a pulp? Because frankly, I'm a Malfoy. And, if you haven't heard of us in the wizarding world, then you do now. I _do_ what I want, and say what I like. And nothing, least of all a muggle like you, can stop me. And, you know, wizards and witches? We aren't uncivilized animals." 

"Oh, and _we_ are? What you call _muggles_?" 

"Do you even know what the word muggle means, Petunia? If you did, then maybe you wouldn't hate us so much."

"Oh, I'm _sorry_, I don't _go_ to Hogwarts School of Freaks and Misfits." 

I laughed nonchalantly. Of course I was annoyed; how dare this piece of muggle trash speak of my school that way? But annoyance had to be disguised. Never let your enemies see your weaknesses. No emotions. 

"Was that supposed to be an insult? We are special, unique people. Even muggles are special and unique in their own way. But you aren't. You're normal. You're _common_. You're _typical_. Do you understand that, muggle?"

"Normality was never a bad thing, _wizard_. Normality equals stability." But she didn't sound so sure.

"Ah, yes, _stability_. You could get stability by staying inside a little hole of a house all day. Stability might be nice, but stability makes you a boring, _boring_ person. You have no sense of adventure, do you?" Aqua green eyes flashed at me. 

"You know what? I take back what I said. You and Lily _deserve_ each other." 

"Nice to hear I have your approval, Petunia. Not that I needed it. And, I'd like to say, likewise. You and Vernon deserve each other." 

More than Lily and I did. 

But I didn't say that. I watched her leave the room with a swish of indignation. Unconsciously, a smirk formed upon my lips. No doubt she knew herself she was getting the 'shorter end of the wand' (**Lucius' Notes:** 'shorter end of the stick'). I was, after all, so much better than Vernon the Whale. 

I shifted myself to a more comfortable position on the muggle bed (you see, wizard beds are enchanted to be soft and feather-like, no matter what the material; that certain enchantment, however, was kept secret by the manufacturers). 

Sleep was long in coming. 

Although I didn't show any of my agitation towards my role as a Death Eater initiate, I felt it. Especially at night. 

For some strange reason, darkness brought about the presence of my quickly fading conscience. Darkness, and Lily. 

Though it was something I didn't normally admit to people, I had never killed anyone. I hexed, I cursed, I did the random 'crucio'. . . but I'd never murdered in cold blood. Ever. 

But I would. In a little over a week, I would kill someone. End someone's life. And that would destroy so many more.

The thought of so much power was dizzying. The way vertigo was dizzying. Being so high up. . . the rush of adrenalin, the blood pumping faster and faster thought my veins. . . 

I liked it. 

The way I liked Quidditch. 

The way I liked falling. 

But this was different; completely different, with the way I liked—no, _loved_—Lily. Though I doubted a single part of me was, my love to Lily was pure. 

So, yes, I liked the thought of killing something. . . some_one_. I liked the power that came with it. 

But killing someone I loved. . . that was something else. 

I could do nothing to stop Voldemort from hurting Lily. And the question was, would my instinct for self-preservation win over my instinct to protect what I loved? 

Here, in the safe confines of my bed, I could imagine all I wanted. Images of myself, putting Voldemort in full-body bind and dashing off with Lily, if she was to be the mudblood he planned to kill. . . I could think—_and_ wish, all I wanted.

But in the final moment, would I do it? I was no coward, but I was, by no means, a fool either. 

I loved Lily with my heart. . . but would I guard her with my life? 

The door creaked open, and I sprang up to a sitting position, my wand lit in my hand. 

Lily. 

"Lucius, it's just me." She was wearing her simple white nightgown. Her hair was an absolute mess, and she didn't have a spot of make up on. 

She was beautiful. 

And, from what I could see in the dim light, shivering. 

"Come here, and that's an order." I said quietly, a spreading a blanket open in my arms. I didn't feel the cold very much; Malfoy Manor was colder. 

She smiled, or I thought she did, before she sidled up beside me, still shivering beneath the blanket I'd covered her in. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her for extra warmth. 

"Better?" 

"Much." 

"What are you doing awake?" I chided. 

"I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking." 

"About what?" 

"You."   

I drew in a breath, and let it out quickly. Lily could See. Was it possible that she knew what I was going to do? I sure as hell hoped not. 

"Why?" I said, sharper than I'd intended to.

"I'm. . . worried about you. I don't know why. I just have this. . . this _feeling_." 

"I'll be all right, Lily; there's no need to worry about me. I can take care of myself." 

She shook her head. 

"It's not about you, per se, it's more about. . . what you're doing. Or what you're going to do. Oh, I sound like a nagging old hag, reading into things that I shouldn't read into, so I'd better stop." She leaned against the headboard, but I pulled her to me in a rather rough hug. 

"You'd never be a nagging old hag." 

She smiled against my chest. 

"Really." 

"Well. . . maybe you would," I conceded, and she hit me playfully. 

We stayed like that—immobile, breathing in the scent of each other. 

Suddenly she shifted, moving to a more comfortable position against my shoulder. My chest was bared to the wind, and it was only then I realized how cold I truly had been.

"Lily?" I whispered. 

"Hmm?" she whispered back. 

"What does Petunia think about our little late night rendezvous?" She giggled. 

"Petunia's asleep." 

"That's nice to know. She gave me this little 'stay away' warning earlier. She was trying to scare me away from you, I think. Maybe she does care."

"She did?" At this, Lily giggled some more. 

"Yes, she did. We bickered, until, seeing defeat, she told me we deserved each other." 

"Seeing defeat? Arrogance likes you, I take it?" 

"It does." I smirked. Quite unexpectedly, she lifted a hand and traced the lines of my face. 

"You're beautiful, you know that?" 

Both my eyebrows raised. Beautiful? Handsome, yes, but I'd never been called beautiful.

"Don't you mean handsome? Women are beautiful, girls are cute, _I _am handsome." She smiled and laughed softly at my remark. 

"No, not handsome. . . you're beautiful the way angels are beautiful. You're like. . . a marble statue, so pale and chiseled." 

"Lily, look in the mirror. That's what I call beautiful." She blushed. 

"So what are you?" 

"Me?" I indicated to myself to express my point. "I already told you. I'm handsome." 

"Oh, get over yourself." 

"Oh no. Oh no." I feigned seriousness. And, being the actor I was, she actually fell for it.

"What?" She was genuinely worried. 

"You see, it's physically _and_ morally impossible for Malfoys to get over themselves." She arched an eyebrow. "Really! I'm serious." 

"Are you ticklish, Mr. Malfoy?" 

"What?"

"I said," she jabbed a finger at my stomach and I drew back, "are," she jabbed again, causing me to jump off the bed, "you ticklish?" her hands were now positioned on her hips. 

"Malfoys aren't ticklish." She smirked, the way I'd probably taught her to. 

"I wasn't asking _about_ Malfoys. I was asking about _you_." 

"No, I'm not--" I'd barely finished my sentence, when she _pounced_ on me. Literally, _pounced_. I fell on the floor, her sitting on top of me. And, as expected, she attacked my ribs. 

And I laughed. Not because I was ticklish, but because it was so funny she didn't believe me. 

"You ARE ticklish!" 

"No I'm" I gasped for air "_not_ ticklish!" 

"Then stop laughing." She crossed her arms. 

I stopped. Well. . . I _tried_ to stop. 

"See, you _are!!_" 

All right, maybe I was. But there was _no_ way I was going to admit defeat. Ever. 

A hand placed on each side of her waist, I picked her up, and set her on the floor easily. She giggled. 

"You treat me like a doll." 

"A doll? No. Dolls are. . . _pretty_. They're meant to be placed in cabinets and shelves, and not to be played with, for fear of them getting dirty, or destroyed. You. . ." I touched her face, "are not a doll. You look like one, but you're the kind of person meant to be hugged and cuddled and kissed. . ." I leaned closer to kiss the tip of her nose, "and tickled." 

My turn.

She was on the floor, and I was above her tickling mercilessly, just like before. I really _did_ like tickling her. It was like listening to her laugh, only ten times better. It was like seeing her laugh, and blush, _and_ cry at the same time.

I stopped. . . _finally_. 

She lay red faced and exhausted. 

"Cardinal rule: Never tickle each other." 

"But it's so _fun_," I protested.

"Well, maybe _occasionally_." 

I paused, feeling something, and tried to act like nothing was wrong. 

"Tired now?" 

"Very." 

"Go to sleep." I kissed her forehead and got off her rather awkwardly. 

All right, you might have forgotten, but I was a teenaged boy. I was, in many ways, mature for my age. But I was still a teenage boy.

With normal, teenage-boy hormones. 

And, somewhere during the time Lily was under me, giggling and shrieking, I realized who I was _with_, and what it _seemed_ like we were doing. Call me dirty minded, but hey, I _was_ eighteen.

And so I had. . . the typical male reaction to it. 

I needed a cold shower. 

A_ really_ cold one.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Notes:

Hope you don't mind Lucius' innuendos… he loves adding those J Well, you know, since I promised—or, to be more precise, since _Lucius_ promised for me—that a chapter came once a week, and I sort of broke it, here's two chapters. Well, it's one chapter, but I've made it extra long, so I hope you all like it! I added a bit more of the symbolism there, see if you can find it. Lucius is leaving muggleworld the chapter after the next, and then, we get to meet his parents *shudder*. 

**Thank Yous:**

**Addy**—well, I'm glad you still think Lucius has some humanity in him, lol. He wears his cloak of evilness too tightly. This chapter shows a bit more of the dark side, when he talked about how he liked killing. He scared me a bit when I was typing. . . But I still love him ! J I love evil people like Lucius. I think there's something about evil blondes, because I love Spike from Buffy, and Lestat from the Vampire Chronicles, lol.  

**Lil_hula_writer**—thank you so much for your review! J

**Clarissa**—yay! I've kept him in character then! J Thank you for reviewing, and Lucius says he's glad you find him likeable yet evil. J 

**Star**—thanks for reviewing! Yes, I was looking for an unlikely pairing, and Lucius and Lily seemed as unlikely as it could possibly get J 

**AJRoald**-- *smirks back* I see Lucius' smirks are getting contagious J 

**Briana Marie**—Lucius is quite intrigued by your hints about that sub-plot between him and Lily. . . and so am I J Here, Petunia's showing a bit of her niceness. . . sort of. . . I mean, she actually called Lily her sister for once! J Of course, Lucius was being mean to her, but then again, he's always mean to people who are mean to Lily. . . aw, it's a bit sweet, don't you think? J

**Black Snow**—sorry it took so long to update! J Thanks for reviewing J

**Dwen**—well, more fluff, as requested! J Blame Lucius for the last bit, he was being very sadistic, you see. You know how deliciously bad men are, lol. 

**Anastacia**--*sigh* I wish I could change the future. . . Lucius and Lily are so right for each other! Opposites attract, right? *sigh* My friend was telling me to write another version of this story that starts out the same way but ends with both of them together J Still considering it, but I don't know what Lucius wants J


	37. Wonderfully Horrendous Mornings

Chapter 37

A persistent tapping on my window awoke me. Damn it. My feet thudded heavily on the wooden floor, and I blinked a few times to see clearly.

 I wasn't exactly what you could call a morning person. Or, an afternoon person. _Or_ an evening person. 

In other words. . . 

I was grouchy, and arrogant all _day _(with certain exceptions, of course). In fact, and I liked it that way. 

I groaned out loud when I recognized the owl. It was Hades. 

My father's owl. 

Double damn it. 

The black wax seal was unbroken, but, out of routine, I performed a Time-Turn Charm on it, just in case. This charm showed me what happened to the particular object it had been aimed at, as far back as I wanted it to. I didn't like letting anyone intrude on Malfoy Privacy. And the word privacy _was_ capitalized for a reason. 

With great reluctance, I unfurled the scroll. 

_Lucius,_(Father never _was_ one to write the word 'Dear' in letters, and neither was I)

_We expect you on the 24th. _

_Your Father, _

_Byron Malfoy_

Well, Father wasn't one to add pleasantries either. For once, I was glad he liked getting straight to the point. Then again, maybe his straight-forwardness was due to the fact that he was simply getting too old to write his own letters. Hmm, would it be too much to hope that he had already gone over the edge into senility? I discarded the thought; Father wouldn't have turned senile if he'd spent ten years in Twilus' footlocker with nothing but a pair of old quidditch gloves to converse with. 

My mind drifted back to the letter. The twenty-fourth. The day before Christmas. Tomorrow. Inwardly, I sighed. It truly was such a shame that I wouldn't be able to spend Christmas Eve with Lily and her family (minus Petunia). They were definitely better to be with than my cold, sterile parents. 

The only reason they'd told me to be there before Christmas was for the. . . _festivities_. I hated festivities. Festivities, in other words, was a place where the elite pure blood families thought up possible marriages and finalized contracts. 

I _hated_ these changes in my plans. 

I would just have to give Lily her present a day earlier. 

Oh, don't tell me you thought I'd forgotten! I was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't forget. 

Besides, this eerily good long-term memory worked both ways, _both_, I might add, to my advantage: I always remembered a favor, and I never forgot revenge. Grudges, in my point of view, made life more. . . _interesting_. And so did favors. The kind I liked. Ahem. 

I collected my bath things, and headed for the shower. Despite having taken one the night before, I still felt the need to do so. Ritual _was_ ritual, after all, and I was horrible at habit breaking.

After the cold shower I subjected myself to (another unpleasant ritual; I soaked in warm baths at night most of the time, but mornings were simply _made_ for showers that froze your arse off, or so it seemed), I was up and awake, albeit rather grumpy at having been woken up so early. Stupid owl. Didn't it _know_ what time was time to wake me up? Then again, owls were nocturnal creatures, and they were most probably unaware of human time restrictions. 

Speaking of time. . . 

I checked the clock instinctively; it was eight o'clock. Lily was awake, then, and Petunia was. . . well, she was somewhere that wasn't here, that was for sure. She always seemed to disappear, and for that, I was grateful. 

I walked leisurely down the attic steps, for all the world making it look like I was walking down a great ivory and gold banister. I smirked unconsciously. I could do that. I reached Lily's door and knocked. 

The door creaked open, and, surprise surprise, Lily stood there in front of me, her hair a mess. She blinked solemnly (and sleepily too), before registering whom it was who stood before her (freshly showered, changed, and, if I could say so myself, looking remarkably handsome). And then, she slammed the door on my face. 

I felt my eyebrows rise in surprise. She'd never slammed doors, it wasn't in her character to do so. 

A minute or two later, she opened the door again, her hair brushed up in a messy ponytail. 

"G'morning." I was shocked. It seemed I wasn't the _only_ non-morning person in the house. 

"Good morning to you too." Compared to her, I sounded _cheerful_. And that was really saying something. 

"Thirty minutes. No, wait, make that ten. Okay. Bye." She closed the door again. 

Interesting; a side of Lily I hadn't yet seen. And I'd thought I'd had her all figured out. 

Of course, she _was_ a woman, and women were all enigmatic (_girls_ weren't though, especially not that Hufflepuff girl I'd gone out with [for around two hours] back in fourth year. . . )

I walked back up the stairs, not overly worried about Lily's reaction. I knew enough about women to know that even though I told her she looked beautiful whether she combed her hair or not, she wouldn't really _listen_ until she looked good enough to satisfy herself. 

This wasn't exactly the first time I'd seen her in the morning; she'd slept in my room more times than I could count. Then again, neither of us was grumpy when we woke up beside each other. 

Ten, agonizingly slow minutes passed by, and I walked back down the stairs, towards Lily's room yet again. 

And I knocked [_again_].

She opened the door, looking like she always did. Clean, fresh, and. . . pretty. 

"Had a lie-in, did you?" I said, and she blushed. 

"You _know_ I didn't sleep until very late last night."  

"Yes, I suppose I do. Breakfast, my lady?" She nodded, and took my outstretched hand. 

"We'll be alone, you know. Mum and Dad went to the doctor's. And Petunia. . . well, she's probably with Vernon this very second, plotting our gruesome deaths." 

"For some strange reason, that doesn't scare me at all. We'll be alone all day?" I asked, trying, with great difficulty, to keep the hopefulness out of my voice. 

She smiled. 

"All day." 

"That's good then; Mother and Father wish me to be at the manor by tomorrow." 

"You're going home tomorrow?"

"I'm going to the manor tomorrow. Home, and manor. . . they're two very different things, Lily." I said, as I motioned for her to sit down. 

"How so?" She bit delicately into a muffin. 

"A home is somewhere you're comfortable. . . Malfoy Manor is hardly my idea of comfortable. It's stiff, rigid, whatever you want to call it. This place," I gestured around, a buttered piece of toast in my hand, "is homey. But then, I don't really belong here." 

Silence. 

And silence meant yes. She agreed; I _didn't_ belong here.  

"Lucius," she gave a small smile, "you don't have to pretend to like muggles for me, or anything." Reaching for my hand, she covered it with hers. "I like you—love you, even, just the way you are. You're an arrogant bastard sometimes, and you'd most probably fit into that Dark Wizard description Garednon gave us, but I still love you." 

If only she knew. Would she still love me after? After I became a murderer? After I became a _Death Eater_? 

But that didn't change the fact that she loved me _now_; never mind later. 

"I know." I stood up, and leaned over the table to hug her. "I love you too." If anybody saw me—Parkinson, Snape, Crabbe or Goyle—they would have laughed. Lucius Malfoy was getting too schmaltzy over a woman. 

Then again, it wasn't just _any_ woman, it was Lily.

Moments passed, moments where we finished our much-neglected breakfast. 

"Are we doing anything today?" 

"Well, I called Jillian, but she wasn't home, and neither was Nads. Not that we can't do anything alone."  

"Like?" 

She peered outside the kitchen window, where snow was falling gently from the gray sky. 

"Looks like we're in for a white Christmas, hmm? How about a snowball fight?" 

"That wouldn't be a bit, oh, I don't know, juvenile now, would it?" 

"Lucius, honestly, stop acting so _mature_. I've never stopped being a child at heart." This was too true. Lily. . . _radiated_ innocence. 

She stood up, and grabbed my arm, literally dragging me to the coat stand. She then proceeded to put an assortment of woolen scarves around my neck. The final touch was a shapeless bit of wool, which I assumed to be a hat. I looked at the mirror. 

And nearly fell over. 

Lucius Malfoy looked. . . like. . . a red cheeked muggle. 

What the bloody hell?

Since when had I started look pink and. . . and. . . _healthy_? 

I'd looked pale and I'd liked it. 

Lily misunderstood my reaction. 

"Well, I know it doesn't _really_ look like a hat, but it was supposed to be. That was the first thing ever I knitted." She shrugged apologetically, and smiled.

I looked at her for the longest time, just drinking her in. Then I asked her a question I never would have asked anyone else. 

"Could I have it?" Her eyebrows rose. "I mean, that is, if no one's using it or anything. . . because really, it's just adorable. I like how it looks on me." The last part, we both knew, was a blatant lie. Yes, it looked all right on me (anything looked 'all right' on me), but it wasn't exactly something that enhanced my looks to their full potential. 

"It's yours." She leaned over and kissed me at the tip of my nose. 

"Thank you." This time, _I_ did the kissing, and, let me tell you, the kiss I gave her was much less. . . _chaste_ than the one she'd given me. 

She finally moved away long enough to ask me if we were going to go out, or stay in and snog all day. Need she ask?

"Snog. Definitely." 

She rolled her eyes, and pulled me out of the door. 

"Let's build a snow fortress." 

"What about the snow fight?" 

She paused, in thought. 

"We each have our own fortresses, and the snow fight happens later." 

I reached for my wand, and she stopped me. 

"No magic." 

"Melting spells?" I asked hopefully.

"No magic of _any_ kind," she said forcefully, with her prefect voice that brooked no nonsense. 

I hung my head. 

I should have known.   

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"First, Lucius, _my_ fortress was so much nicer," Lily was saying, as grumpy as I'd ever seen her. 

"Ah, but mine was nice _and_ strong." I paused, eyeing her over my mug of hot chocolate. "You see, Lily, when you build _fortresses_, make sure they're strong. Very strong. _Then_ you make it look nice."  

"And your hands didn't freeze off, packing all that snow?" 

"No, not really." My hands looked perfectly fine.

"Let me see." She took mine in hers. "This is so unfair. . . dratted sensitive skin." Just as she let go of my hand, I reached for hers. 

"There's nothing wrong with sensitive skin," I said, smirking slightly, "it feels nice." 

"Well, I doubt my hands would ever be as smooth as yours. It's like you haven't done a single chore your entire life." 

"I have!" I protested. 

"And when was that?" 

"Er. . . detention! You were there, you saw me cleaning up that wall." She rolled her eyes. 

"What about before that?" 

My brow crinkled in concentration.

"I polish my own broom, you know. At least the house elves don't do that for me." I shrugged, and leaned back on the chair. 

So what if I hadn't done any manual labor? I was a Malfoy, and we simply didn't do those kinds of things. 

"What about cleaning your room? Or washing the plates?" 

"No, and no. Why do it when the House Elves are there? They _like_ cleaning the house. I imagine they even _like_ being abused." 

Her eyes widened. 

"You _hurt_ them?" 

"When they annoy me, yes. Some of them truly _are_ irritating." She gave me a look of mild disbelief, which made me feel rather guilty. I had to change the topic, and I had to change it soon.

"I haven't given you your present yet, Lily." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Finals. Sem-Break. Enough said. :D

Thank you to all those who reviewed! I don't have time to do any individual review things though, so thank you to: Paige, Sarah, Briana Marie, Anastacia-Gwydion

Review!!! I'll be back from vacation in a few days, and I expect to have some reviews in the inbox! Please? *puppy dog look* 

*Lucius apparates behind her, and gives the same puppy dog look* 

Please??? 

**SUGGESTIONS FOR LUCIUS' PRESENT TO LILY, ANYONE? WRITER'S BLOCK**


	38. Presents, Presents

**Chapter 38**

"A present?" 

I smiled—actually, _smirked_ was more like it--mysteriously, and waved my wand to accio the package to us. 

It wasn't heavy, and it was rectangular in shape. She held it, fingers trembling ever so slightly with unbridled joy and excitement, so much like a child, I wanted to hug her. But of course I didn't—that would have been un-Lucius-like, so hug her so often in one day. 

"Open it," I urged. She carefully lifted the spellotape that held the paper together, and I was left to watch her, shocked. "You could just _tear_ the paper off, Lily," I said, impatient to see her reaction to the gift I'd spent days and days looking for. The concept of _gently _opening a present was unfamiliar and foreign to me. Wrapping paper was _made_ for being torn apart—why else had the manufacturers made it so flimsy? If they'd wanted something strong and lasting, they would have used plastic, or an enchanted material, at the very least. 

"But the paper's so pretty—I want to keep it." I almost rolled my eyes; how very _Lily_. 

After what seemed to me like eons of waiting while she carefully and systematically removed the green paper, the present was unwrapped (at _long_ last). She looked at it for less than a second, before practically knocking me down with a hug. 

"Oh, Lucius, I love it, thank you so much!" She was kissing me all over the face, and I was impatient all over again, moving away from her gently for air before _I_ gave her the kiss, this time on her lips. 

The present I'd given her was an enchanted book. It was enchanted in two ways, though I only knew of one at that time. The first enchantment was purely physical, dealing with the books protection spells, and other mediocre charms. Its pages would never run out (_naturally_). On the bottom part of each page, a line of poetry was written. Muggle and wizard poetry alike. I hope the symbolism hasn't been lost on you—_mixing_ muggle and wizard poetry. Try to figure that out. 

The second enchantment—that is something you shall know in due time. 

Now, you must remember, I was a Malfoy then, and I still am now, and Malfoys, no matter what, have _never_ been known for their frugality. Of _course_ it was an expensive present. It was bound in the finest baby dragon skin leather there was, and it's corners and spine were protected by diamonds, forged and melted to fit the book perfectly. Oh yes, and I mustn't forget to mention the lock, triggered by the owner's very thought, and the spell cast upon it so that it's weight and size would be controlled by the owner himself (or, in this case, _her_self). This was a book that would last forever.

"What do you think I should use it for? It looks too nice to be used." 

We were sitting on the floor, with our backs to the wall, lazing contentedly in our post-snog euphoria. 

"Well, Lily my dear, you have too many thoughts to keep in your head, and so I decided to give you something much like a pensieve. I would have gotten a pensieve for you, except you know how rare they are. So put those thoughts, in there." I took her wand, and traced a line from her head, to a page. Words instantly appeared. She closed the book shut, moving faster than I'd seen her move before, and she smiled guiltily. 

"Don't read my thoughts, they're embarrassing." 

"They're all gibberish to me—only _you_ can understand what you think. The book-maker made sure of that. I could understand it if you _wanted_ me to understand it, and unlock it if you _wanted_ me to, but the temptation would be too great for me to bear, looking into your mind. I'd probably accio the book into the Slytherin Dorms each night, just to read what you were thinking." 

She smiled, flattered. 

"Could I write it the normal way, you know, with quills?" 

"Why not?" And I pulled out the second present I had for her—a peacock tail feather quill. 

Her warm back reassuring against mine, she murmured her thanks, and, a quill in her hand, she began to write. 

*~*~*~*~*

I leaned forward, my forehead against the cold, hard pane of the carriage window. I was going back to the house. The carriage had no need of a driver—it was enchanted. It had horses, though, not Thestrals. I didn't like Thestrals, because I could see them. And the fact that I could _see_ them reminded me of Iole, and I didn't like to think about her. 

The cessation of the sharp jolts made whenever wheel hit stone told me we were finally airborne. Of course we (the horses, the carriage, and myself, that is) couldn't be seen by even the sharpest muggle eyes because of the best cloaking spells. Was it just me, or was the word 'best' _always_ associated with the name Malfoy? Interesting coincidence. 

My grip tightened on a special bundle I had in my pocket. My present from Lily. 

'I wasn't really sure what to get you—what am I supposed to give the person who has everything?' She'd whispered, her small hand slipping something into my pocket, much like it had done that night in detention.

She'd given me a Snitch. Well, yes, snitches were typical, and not at all expensive. But this was different; not only because She'd given it to me, but because it was silver, and not gold. 

'And it changes color too, see? It's a bit like the muggle mood rings, only it's based on your feelings, not just the temperature.'

_'The wings are removable, you can give them to whoever—'_

_'To whoever I want. I'm giving it to you.' _

_She'd blushed uncontrollably._

_'You don't have to, you know, because. . . because of _me**. . .** _just do what you want--'_

_'This _is_ what I want. It's yours.'  _

It didn't take very long to get to Malfoy Manor. I knew instantly when I was almost there. The air around my house was colder than anywhere else, because of a spell my ancestor had placed upon it centuries before. He was odd, believing that true Slytherins were part serpent, making us oblivious to the cold, being cold-blooded creatures ourselves. Right. As I said, he _was_ odd. 

The carriage alighted with a rumble. I would have to get that fixed. Levitating my trunk, I stepped through the door (which opened of its own accord—it felt the Malfoy in me) and into the vast antechamber. Nothing had changed, since I'd last seen it a few short months ago.    

The marble halls were, thankfully, black. Any more green and I probably would have gone colorblind. 

Torches, enchanted to give no heat and burn forever, lined the halls. 

"Mother, Father, I've arrived," I said to no one in particular. The halls carried sound, and my voice, low though it was, could be heard throughout the rooms where the doors were still open. 

"We're in the sixth living room, Lucius," My mother's voice said, so clear she could have been beside me. 

The sixth living room—that was somewhere in the east wing. I left my trunk hovering in the middle of the hall with a simple placement spell for the house elves to bring to my room. 

I rounded a corner, and entered. They were sitting there, just the way they'd done in the _second_ living room when I'd left them last start of term. Did _nothing_ in this house change? Mother was sitting on a chair, the very image of poise, and Father looked rather sulky, reading the Daily Prophet and sipping his Black Unicorn Dust Tea with disdain. 

Of course, things changed when I stepped in. Nothing major, I _was_ just their _only_ _firstborn_ son, wasn't I? My mother's eyebrow arched slightly, and my father put down the paper. To tell the truth, that was more than I'd already expected. 

They probably wanted something from me. 

And, as I found out less than a minute later, they did. 

"Lucius," both my parents said at the same time, in the same tone, which, obviously, meant that they wanted the same thing from me. 

"Mother; Father?" I pretended to look as if I knew nothing of what they planned to do. But I had a sinking feeling that I did—

"At eighteen, I believe you've already come of age--" Mother began.

"Don't coddle the boy, tell him straight out," the deep voice of Byron Malfoy, my father, growled. 

"I was getting to that; Lucius, it's about time you started thinking of settling down." 

"You've your whole life ahead of you—don't marry her right away, a man has his needs, but what your mother and I mean, boy, is that you must _start_ looking. We purebloods do our best to keep our line clean. We were thinking one of the Black sisters—you've met them, surely? Three of them to choose from. Well? What have you got to say?" 

Father didn't say 'what do you think'—because in his eyes, I hadn't developed a brain yet. I was _supposed_ to be as obedient as a house elf. But, you know, if you can lie to one person, you can lie to another.  

"Good. I'll start--"

"Tonight," Mother intervened gracefully, her eyes sparkling with excitement. How anyone could enjoy _matchmaking_ was beyond me—

"Yes, we're hosting a party. You can have your choice of women then." He made it sound like women were on a display rack, and I was the lucky buyer. Ha. 

"Perfect." I didn't care if my answers were boring—they expected me to be that way, so I was. 

I waited for them to say I could go. 

And, right on cue, Father cleared his throat. 

"Go to your room, and change into something presentable for tonight. And for Salazar's sake, boy, put a Paling charm on yourself. You look too flushed to be a Malfoy." 

I bowed formally, bristling inside at his casual insult, and left the room. That _was_ a strange way to behave toward your parents, but, then again, I thought, as a house elve's screams echoed from the room and resonated around the house, my parents were far from normal.     

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Ack!! I'm sorry I haven't written in a long time. Nearly a month—sorry! If Lucius were here, he'd be torturing me with Avada spells already. Lucius has gone on some 'Very Secret Business' (translation: DEATH EATER/KILL HARRY POTTER business). And I—I was on vacation. Then school started, and I was just too lazy to do anything, since school was—well. . . school was schoolish. You know what I mean. 

Now, to the story. 

The 'Present'. Hope you all liked that! And, this chapter really wouldn't be here (SERIOUSLY) without all of you guys giving suggestions. Even if I didn't _use_ the suggestion, it went into that little part of my brain, and it was, whether you see it or not, processed into the story. 

The 'Second Enchantment' that Lucius hasn't mentioned yet is nothing anyone should really worry over. It's got something to do with the sequel, if I decide to write one. And it will _definitely_ be mentioned in the epilogue. I hope you all liked my version of Lucius' parents—there will be more of them in the next chapter, at the party, and you'll get to meet the Blacks. _Including_ Sirius. (I can't really remember—_was_ Sirius still there? He ran away in his Seventh year, didn't he? If he ran away in his Fifth, and I'm making a huge mistake, please tell me—I want to stick as much as possible to the original storyline).

**THANKS TO: **

**Black Snow**—you're back! :D And I'd thought you'd disappeared :D Thank you for reviewing! (you were the first :D)

**Clarissa**—thanks for your review! It totally changed my viewpoint about the whole jewelry thing (aside from Lucius whispering into my ear, lol). Lucius lives to be different and unique, in an evil way. Don't we all? (well, maybe not all of us can pull off his evil act, I know I can't, lol). 

**Sarah29**—Lucius was simply desperate for reviews—it hurts him deeply when no one has anything to say about the story of his life, lol. You know how his ego is. 

**PinkFlamingoes**—hope you like this chappie! Thanks for reviewing! 

**Addy**—ADDY!! *huggles* Thanks for _always_ reviewing! :D I loved that idea about the Avada charm protection, but *sigh* she wouldn't have died, if she'd had that. *sigh* I enjoyed my vacation immensely (went to three diff. places!), but it's back to the old grindstone. Is that the right expression? Ah, whatever. Hate school. *sulks, but brightens up immediately at the Lucius picture on her comp*

**Briana Marie**—your story!!! I'm off to read it once I finish posting this. I haven't noticed how much I actually miss fanfiction *sigh* It's starwars. It's warping my brain! I'm getting addicted to both kinds of fanfiction now, lol. Thanks for reviewing! And no, your Christmas chappie did NOT suck!!! :D 

Erenriel—*huggles* you're back! I don't mind if you really _are_ the world's worst reviewer (you're NOT!), since I'm the world's worst updater too L Ah, well. Lucius still loves you, lol. He loves all 'his' readers. Just like we love him, lol. 

**Mina Granger**—I know, it's all Voldie's fault. And the time for Lucius and Lily to part is coming ever sooner *Trelawney Voice* *sigh* Thanks for the necklace idea! I was thinking about it, but then Lucius whispered into my ear, and I melted :D 

**Leah**—hello, my fellow Severus lover!!! *sighs and flutters lashes* Slytherins are sooo shaggable. . . 

**AJRoald**—and 'insanely' expensive the gift is! :D And Lucius was arrogant about that, wasn't he? lol. This isn't exactly muggle poetry, but it's _got_ muggle poetry :D The stuffed animal idea simply scared Lucius, lol. I think it's a childhood fear of his. *snicker*

**Star2003**—thank you! :D Hope you like this chappie :D


	39. The Party, and The Duel

Chapter 39 

Shrouded in midnight black robes, I'd felt very much like a ghost.

In fact, I must have seemed like one, drifting in and out of the empty corridors, hands behind my back, contemplating what I would have to do. 

So, they wanted me to get married. Well then. Nothing short of the wand of Merlin himself (or, possibly, the _Imperius_ curse, but I was too strong for that, surely) could force me to do something I didn't want to. 

Of course I wanted to marry and give perfectly pure-blooded heirs, to carry on the Malfoy name. 

But that was just a part of me. A large part, perhaps, but _just a part nonetheless. _

Another part of me wanted to leave everything I'd known, and run away somewhere with Lily, get married, and be the father of her children. 

But then, that was just a 'part' too, wasn't it? 

Damn duality. 

A sort of popping sounded behind me, interrupting my thoughts—a house elf. 

I turned around, looking at it disdainfully. It trembled under my gaze. Ha. I still had the touch. 

"M-master, Your Father is wanting to see you, master, he is wanting you there now." 

"There? Where? Be more specific, elf. Or else." 

It's disgustingly large eyes watered, and it sniffled pathetically. Salazar forbid it left any of its germs on me. I stepped away inconspicuously. 

"Th-the Main Hall, m-master." It was itching to apparate away from me, wasn't it? And it was a new elf too (it didn't have the characteristic scars and bruises of the Malfoy Elves), I noticed. Hmm. Quite young. 

The young ones were always fun to jinx. _And_ intimidate. Bwahahaha. 

"Come with me, elf." 

"D-Dobby, master, that is my name." I raised an eyebrow at him, debating whether to curse him to death on the spot for speaking out of turn, or not. 

But then, I was in the mood to curse my _father_, not this insipid little house elf. Maybe I would later, if Wizard Wireless got boring enough. 

And it usually did, hence the unusually high mortality rate of Malfoy Family Elves. 

See, it wasn't really my fault—since entertainment failed to entertain me, I had to find my _own source of entertainment. And people said I was sadistic? Ha. _

Well—wait a minute, I was. 

Ah, well. 

"Boy," my father said irritably as I entered, as if I were a particularly irksome burden, "the guests will be here any minute. Have you gotten ready yet?" 

"Yes father." I wanted to gesture to my elaborate clothes and say 'OBVIOUSLY, YOU SENILE OLD FOOL' but I didn't. I would have had to be crazy to do that. Father might have been old, but he knew more curses than I did. And that was saying something.

"Good. Go to the ballroom—the eighth one, the others are being redone—and sit there with your mother. I shall Apparate there shortly." 

A curt nod that passed for respectful, and I was gone. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Lucius, you really _should_ wear that color more often, it suits you," one of the Black sisters-- the blonde one-- twittered. If memory served me correct, she was Narcissa. Or Bellatrix. _Or_ that other one. Hmm. I hated remembering names. 

"Of course it suits me. I wear black almost every day of the year." I muttered grumpily. 

She laughed, and touched my shoulder. Honestly, what was her point? 

My mind drifted away from the meaningless conversation.

Lily Lily Lily Lily Lily Lily Lily. It felt strange, not knowing where Lily was and what she was doing at that exact moment. At Hogwarts, I'd pretty much memorized her schedule (not that I did it _intentionally_, of course, only fools did that). 

Maybe she was painting her nails. But no—she didn't do that. Reading a book? No—she'd been complaining about the lack of them at home. Today was Christmas eve—and she was. . . _celebrating_ with her friends. 

I felt a twinge of jealousy. But that was an understatement. A twinge? Ha. I felt a _tidal wave_ of the bloody thing. 

And not at her—at her friends. That they got to be near her. That they'd known her longer than I had. That they were sharing Christmas Eve with her. 

Damn it, damn it, damn it. 

She was probably having _fun_ without me.

Was she even _enjoying_ my absence? Maybe she was cozying up to—what was his name again? Well, he didn't even deserve to be remembered. 

The point was, how _could_ she? While I was here, _wallowing_ in semi-loneliness without her? 

"You know, Narcissa," I began, turning on the charm, as the blonde in front of me beamed (so she _was_ Narcissa)., "we should stop all this mindless chatter. How about a dance?" 

"Why of _course_, Lucius," she smiled lightly and took my hand in hers. 

Thankfully the dance was a short one—I wasn't in the mood to dance while I thought up possible ways of killing He-Who-I-Didn't-Know-the-Name-of.

"Now, just out of plain curiosity, _why_ did you help that--" she looked up at me cautiously and continued, "_muggle_born?" It was obvious she'd been about to say mudblood, but had suddenly remembered my long-ago threat—anyone calling Lily a mudblood would be calling _me_ one. 

"Well, my dear, it was just a bet Severus and I had going. According to him, I would never do anything that would put my reputation on the line. But I did—I usually win bets, you know. I have the courage to do things Severus would never do." I shrugged nonchalantly and swirled the Fire Whisky in my glass.

"But, Lucius," she couldn't say my name the way Lily did, "what _is_ Severus really like? Even with us Slytherins he's withdrawn. Frankly, I don't understand him." 

"Severus is a man, and women find it harder to understand men, Severus most of all. He's a smart young bloke, even if he _is_ a bit eccentric. But why are we talking about Severus? Tell me about yourself. You're in—your sixth year, are you not?" 

"Fifth—Sixth is Bellatrix. How could you forget? I've only just told you!" She giggled flirtatiously. 

She seemed so much older than Lily, even though they were the same age. Lily possessed an innocence Narcissa never had. 

"You have? My mind is like a sieve these days, you know, anything that goes in goes out again." 

"Oh, but surely you're not _that_ old, are you, Lucius? You're much too handsome to be called old." 

"Of course I'm too handsome for that word. I'll never be old. It's a Malfoy family secret, you know," I said, putting on a conspiratorial air. 

"Really?" 

She was too gullible. Lily would have gone along with the joke, making it obvious she knew what it was. Narcissa seemed to believe every word that came out of my mouth. 

"I was just joking, Narcissa. But we Malfoys don't really age. Must be the pure blood." 

"Oh, right, of course you were. Dear me, it's that dreadful cousin of mine. He's absolutely awful. A _Gryffindor_! Can you believe it? He's the shame of the family, and he being the heir and all. Maybe they should just give his title to Regulus—that's his brother, of course." I raised an eyebrow—I hadn't known they were related. They both had the same last name, of course, but Black's being a Gryffindor made me think it had just been a coincidence.

"Yes, I know, he doesn't act at all like a Black, does he?" 

"I've never met—Regulus, you say?" 

"Yes, he studies at Durmstrang now—parents are afraid he'll go astray just like Sirius did. It's all in the friends, you know? Bad friends, and you turn out just as bad as them. You know, the Potters? They're pureblooded, but they just _love_ muggles! It's disgusting." 

"Yes, I know of them. Gryffindors, the whole lot." 

"Is there anything _wrong with Gryffindors?" A voice asked. _

I swirled around, wand out. 

It was _Sirius_ Black (I had to include his atrocious first name—there were too many Blacks in the room). 

"Oh, hello, _Sirius_. How nice to see you." My voice was hard as ice, and I still held my wand directed at him.  

"Malfoy."      

"No pleasantries?" I pretended to be hurt. Maybe a duel with Black was just what I needed to rid myself of this post-Lily gloom. Flirting with Narcissa only added to it. 

"None needed."

"Oh, I'm hurt. Deeply." My voice dripped sarcasm. 

"Are you now?" 

"Lucius, Sirius, _please_." Damn it, I'd forgotten Narcissa. Women never liked fights. 

"Narcissa—excuse my abrupt departure. I—need something outside." I turned on my heel and left abruptly for the gardens. 

For those of you unfamiliar with pure-blood conduct, my 'going outside' was an invitation to Black for a duel. 

Footsteps rang on the pebbled walkway behind me. 

Black was no coward. He was just too impetuous. That boy had a terrible temper, and he didn't even have the subtlety to go with it. 

"Care for a duel Black? I need to hurt something, and I'm afraid house elves will not suffice." 

"You hurt House Elves for sport? You really _are_ pathetic, Malfoy." 

"Am I? At least I act the way I'm expected to--" I ducked, as a ray of purple light shattered the statue behind me. "That way, is it? _Draius Callosem._" Blue light that would have given him a day-long migraine shattered into a million bits with his counter curse. 

Hmm, he wasn't bad.

"Head aches, Malfoy? Is that all you can give me? _Incendio!_" 

I waved my wand, and the spell deflected to the bush beside me. 

"Shame you aren't in Slytherin, Black, else they'd have taught you better spells—_Serpensortia!_" A black snake shot out of my wand and slithered, hissing, toward Black—

"_Finite Incantatem!_" The snake disappeared—

"_Rictusempra_!" I shouted, and silver light shot towards Black and hit him before he had time to move. 

I walked calmly over to his still supine form, and, like any good host (though I doubted good hosts dueled with their guests), I helped him stand back up. 

"At least it wasn't the Cruciatus, Black. Now aren't you lucky." 

Black's look shot daggers at me, but he didn't try to curse me. Proper wizarding conduct—he'd lost, and that was that. It was considered cowardly to try and curse me after the duel was over.

Hurting something _was_ good—I felt better already.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**A/N:**  I noticed Lucius swears a lot more in this chapter. . . you see, I didn't have the privilege of writing it—He _e-mailed_ it to me! Seriously. I never knew Voldie-headquarters _had_ computers. *snicker* 

Yes, so that's why this took so long. Well, I was procrastinating a bit too—I had this yesterday, but Lucius wanted me to proofread it, and I decided to study Chemistry first instead (STUPID STUPID STUPID subject!!!)

Lucius and I hope you like this chappie :D 

**Thanks to: **

**Sannabelle**—Thanks for reviewing! :D 

**Kingsdork24**—well, I think Lily _does_ love James, but in a different way, of course. I'm putting it in the sequel (if people _want_ a sequel, which is in Lily's P.O.V., this time, not Lucius', it's what she writes in the Diary he gave her [possibly]) . Thank you for reviewing!!! :D I'm glad you like the story, and I _will_ try to review faster! :D  

**AJRoald**—I think Lucius feels the _need_ to give expensive things, just to keep his rep up, lol. Thanks for reviewing, and hope you like the chapter :D 

**Briana**—thanks for your long review!!! *loves long reviews* I PROMISE I'll check out your story, as soon as I stop failing chemistry! Argh. Thanks for reminding me about Sirius—that saved me tons of page flipping :D And thanks too for telling me about the arranged marriages cliché! The story would've been in grave danger if you hadn't seen it :D I think all that fanfiction boggled my mind, and I can't tell the diff between fanfics and the real books! I had to bug Lucius a while about it (which is _very_ dangerous, mind you—bugging a fully trained dark wizard), and according to Lucius-dear, the marriage isn't arranged, it's just _very_ forcefully suggested : P  Malfoys will be weird. *turns around to see if Lucius saw that statement* *sighs with relief—he's too busy trying to kill Harry*

**Dilligas762**—wow! I can't imagine anybody reading my—er—Lucius' story that much, and staying up that late to finish it! I'm touched :D I promise I'll try to make the next chapter as fast as possible, but it takes so long since I have to recheck the whole story, and I have to proofread it too *sigh* Plus schoolwork *shudder* It's definitely not J.K. who put me up to this—it's Lucius. *shakes head, and points to enormous Malfoy Shrine behind her* He's much more convincing, especially with his wand pointed at your throat :D And, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! :D 

**Nikki**—Lily's finding love with James will take a bit—at the moment, she still hates him :D But it won't stay that way for long, of course—I don't think Lily's the type to marry someone just because he proposed :D I'll give you more details in the e-mail then :D Thanks for reviewing! 

**Dwendilwen—** I was looking through my reviews on ff dot net, and I realized that I didn't get your review in my mail! Teehee, so I'm just re-up-loading this chappie to say thank you for reviewing :D School's actually being pretty terrible to me too, especially Chemistry. And, without Lucius to help me here (memory increasing charms, the works). Now that you talk about it, it's quite obvious to me now the—argh I have to use this word—_chemistry_ between Bellatrix and Lucius. They're both death eaters, and I doubt Narcissa is. Hmm. I'll have to ask him about that. Again, thanks for reviewing! Hope you liked the chapter :D


	40. Musca Mortis

Chapter 40 

"And _where_ have you been?" My father's voice said in a surprisingly low tone. He'd noticed me, for once. 

"I was—showing Black around the Malfoy grounds." _Ground_ was more like it—maybe I would ask Black how he liked the pebbles on the floor, just to annoy him. They were supposed to be perfectly symmetrical. At least that was what the horticulturist had said, before Father had cursed him to death. 

What happy childhood memories. 

Ha. 

Taste the sarcasm.

"Well, you left your partner alone here. I suggest you go back to her, before she starts getting impatient. You've been gone for nearly half an hour." 

Of course I'd been gone for nearly half an hour. I'd decided to torture that new elf, Dobber, or whatever he was called, just to get rid of the Post-Lily-Gloom _residue_. Notice my condition now had a name. 

"Narcissa, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I was just—well, you know what I was doing, of course." She giggled, the look of mild annoyance completely gone from her face. 

"Duelling? Now, now, Lucius, maybe you should learn to control your temper a bit. He _is_ my cousin, after all." 

I pretended to look vaguely hurt. 

"What's wrong with my temper? And besides, you said yourself, he _is_ the shame of your family, isn't he? Consorting with _Gryffindors_." 

"I suppose you could call him the _Black_ Sheep?" She twittered slightly in high pitched laughter. 

I couldn't find it in myself to join in. Who on _earth_ said jokes like that? 

"Indeed. Now--"I thought of something quick to say, "you _must_ introduce me to your sisters. Bellatrix and--" I paused, racking my mind for the other name. Luckily, she filled it in for me. 

"Andromeda?"

"Yes, right, that's the one. And you must promise you won't get jealous when I dance with them." 

She appeared to shrug nonchalantly. 

"Jealous? Me? I'll tell you who jealous will be—Rodolphus. Lestrange? You've met him, of course—I think you're in the same year. Well, he's been with Bellatrix for over a month now, you know. Very possessive person."

I arched an eyebrow. Not jealous? Really. 

"You'll find I'm a very possessive person myself, Narcissa."  

"Are you?" 

"Of course. You can't be a Malfoy without being possessive." I finished the Fire Whisky in my hand. 

Whereas alcohol made the blood rush to most people's heads, it had the opposite effect on me. I seemed to turn even paler. Malfoy genes, and all. 

"Posessive? How so?" She was looking at me, trying to feign boredom, but failing completely. 

"Well, if I were to see my wife consorting with someone fool enough to cross my path. . . something _very_ bad would happen, wouldn't it? I don't like sharing my things with other people. I never did, Narcissa." Lily and Mr. Whatever-His-Name-Was, talking and laughing with each other in front of the fire place. . .

My grip on the glass was almost tight enough to break it. I put it down.  

She was quiet for a moment. 

"You're thinking of a wife, are you?" 

"No, not really—but we _were_ speaking of possessiveness, and in my point of view, that's the crème de la crème of the trait." I was lying through my teeth, of course—I _was_ thinking of a wife, but certainly not her. Lily. Of course, Lily was only fifteen, and she had to be at least a Hogwarts graduate before marriage could even be suggested. Ministry rules, and such. Weren't they tiresome.

"Some women like their men to be possessive. Frankly, I wouldn't mind a possessive man myself." 

"Then we shall have to get you one, won't we? If you'll excuse me, Narcissa, I have certain—matters to attend to." I smiled somewhat enigmatically, bowed, and left the ballroom. 

I didn't care whether father noticed me or not—I _had_ to know what Lily was doing. 

Remember that 'second enchantment' I haven't yet told you about? Yes, this was it. 

It wasn't exactly _spying_ on Lily, per se. It was. . . checking up on her. I'd placed a spell on the book, which would track her down where ever she was. As long as she was within a twenty-five meter radius of the diary, I would be able to see her. 

As with most spells, there were certain flaws. I would only be able to see _her_, and nobody else. But that was all I needed, wasn't it? To see her? 

And she would never know. 

I stomped almost childishly (_almost_; again, I stress this) into my room, adjusting the collar of my shirt irritably. 

My conscience, which seemed to have more influence over my thoughts since I'd met Lily, was nagging me again. 

I wasn't supposed to _spy_ on her, this was completely wrong. 

It was _against_ my principles to spy on her. 

But then, wasn't it supposed to be against _her_ principles to. . . to _be _with other men while I wasn't around?  

I knew perfectly well that Lily's adulterousness was, quite possibly, a figment of my imagination. 

But the nagging question. 

What if? 

If. A word with a billion possibilities. 

I hated it. 

Walking purposefully towards my trunk, I knelt down and opened its secret compartment. It was hard to find, if you didn't know where to look for it: first, you had to find the part where the veins of wood didn't exactly meet. The ridges around the compartment itself were undetectable—such was the expertise of the maker. 

Unfortunately, he'd been a muggle. 

And, even more unfortunately, he'd been disposed of. 

Good help was _so_ hard to find these days. 

Anyway—

The Comparment. 

I placed my hand in it, feeling around, and almost instantly, I found what I'd been looking for. 

A cool, flat disc, that glowed a bright blue the instant my hand hovered over it. 

It only worked for me—the part of the diary I hadn't told Lily about. So what? I'd been keeping even bigger secrets from her—this didn't matter. 

And besides, this was for her protection. Sort of. 

"_Musca Mortis._"

Light spread rapidly from the disc, which hovered inches above my hand. Sparkles flew from left and right, or different hues and shapes, working to form the body of the woman I knew so well. Lily.

I pretended to look bored—even in private, I couldn't find it in myself to gawk at magic like an uneducated muggle. Of course, as this was the first time I'd ever used the Murtazzo (the disc), I was more than a little surprised. 

And even more so, when the object of so much worry stood before me, looking sad and utterly un-Lily-like.

"Mum, I'm really not in the mood. And Petunia doesn't want me there—you know that. Besides, nobody I know is going—they're all busy. Nad's gone off somewhere, Jillian's probably with her, Evee's sick, and Johnson—well, you know him. I can only find him through Jillian and—oh, it's useless. I think I'll sleep early tonight." 

She paused a bit—Mrs. Evans must have been speaking to her—and then she nodded, smiling lightly, and did something, which I assumed was good night hug to her mother. 

"I love you." She smiled, and turned around, walking in reality, but not really moving from where she was here in my room. Floating.  

I was entranced, now, and I didn't even bother to hide it. Even though I knew she was speaking to her mother, I felt like she was speaking to me. _I love you_.  

And she was alone! On Christmas Eve! 

She hadn't been enjoying herself in my absence after all. Ah, well, ill-placed suspicion was nothing new to me.   

Lily sat down, leaned back, and curled herself into fetal position. She was whispering something, and tears were brimming in her eyes. 

Did she really miss me _that_ much? 

"Lucius," she was whispering. "Don't do it. Please. Don't." 

The smirk that had just begun to form on my face was off my face in less than a second. 

She knew.    

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**A/N: **

Haha!! *smug look* I updated sooner than anybody expected!! Aren't you proud of me? I know I am. :D And so is Lucius :D I think…  Well… hmm… I don't have very much to say for this chapter. . . 

Oh, yes, before I forget—Musca Mortis—the spell Lucius used to 'spy' on Lily, actually means something. Musca means 'to fly' and Mortis comes from the word 'Mortise'; just look it up in the dictionary. :D Something about a piece of something, and joining. . . so you pretty much get the meaning of the spell. 

And, yes, _IT_ is happening very soon. 

You _do_ know what I mean by _IT_, don't you? Yes, yes, yes. And the even bigger _IT_, is going to happen soon—their 'breaking up'. 

I don't want to do it—trust me—but I'll have to. I want this thing strictly canon (is that the word for it?). I'll even be changing Arabella Figg as Lily's best friend to Alice Nichols (soon to be Alice Longbottom—you all know her, of course) as soon as I have the time :D 

**THANK YOU:**

 **Anastacia—**your question about Lily's premonitions has been answered! :D She still has them (I doubt Severus keeps giving her more Dreamless Sleep Potion), but since some of them weren't as scary as the first few she had, she didn't tell Lucius about it. She had a few about Lucius and the murder he was going to commit, if you remember, and she told him about it, but he shrugged her off. As the murder date draws nearer, her dreams get more urgent (which was why she was sleeping in a few chappies ago, and why she's feeling sad now, because she thinks she can't stop him). *sigh* my friend was telling me to split the story two ways, one where she breaks up with him, marries James, and has Harry, and another one where she turns (in your words), into 'bad, ass-kicking Lily' and runs off with him :D Thanks for reviewing!!! 

**Dilligas762**—thank Lucius for the great story—he's the one doing everything!! :D And thanks for reviewing! :D You'll see very soon how he manages to lose her. . . it's sad, and it was terrible for me to write—but I won't let out any more secrets :D 

**Kingsdork—**Well, Sirius was invited because of typical Pureblood. . . Purebloodedness :D Ran out of words there :D See, his family wanted to act like nothing was wrong, and so they dragged him to the party, for the sole purpose of showing everyone that the Black Heir was still intact. Hmm, didn't consider the Dursley thing—I think they didn't know the difference between Lucius and James, actually—and if they did, well, they never had a high opinion of Lily in the first place, and they never liked talking about her to Harry, after all :D 

**Tristan2—**thanks for reviewing!! Love Jason Isaacs too :D He's a perfect Lucius *drool* And I'm glad you didn't find Lucius OOC :D

**Erenriel—**don't worry about insanity, we all suffer from it! :D But then, it's not really suffering, is it? Bwahahaha. Thanks for reviewing :D 

**Addy—**Lucius dearest always hardens up when he's away from Lily—he's like a block of ice to the sun! He warms up fine with her around, but with her away, and with his family around him, he freezes up again. *sigh* And I'm glad you caught that phrase! :D you're right, it _does_ tell a lot about why he's the way he is. He doesn't really admit it (and I don't think he ever will), but I think he wants, very much, to please his dear ol' dad. He must have, when he was young, and even though he never thinks about it now, he just does it automatically. Why else (asides from Lily) would he want to join the Death Eaters? I don't know, I'll have to bug Lucius about it later, if he doesn't hex me first :D Merci for reviewing! :D 

**Briana Marie—**Yes, Narcissa _is_ a bit on the annoying side. Or a lot. *snicker* She's the world's biggest flirt. I had to imagine really annoying people to make her :D But, the strangest thing—I asked Lucius the other day, about Narcissa and all, and he told me he was 'rather fond' of her, but he doesn't really _like_ her as much as he does Lily—I mean, duh, he _loves_ Lily. :D I guess he's fond of her the way one is fond of a birthmark one is stuck with, but one doesn't really want :D (too many one's in the sentence—scary English teacher would be ashamed of me :D) Thanks for reviewing! Oh, and update soon!!! :D 

REVIEW!!! REVIEW!!!! REVIEW!!!! It'll make me update sooner!!! :D 


	41. FortyOne

**Chapter** **41**

It was those dratted dreams of hers. They told her. Somehow, she'd found out what I was going to do. 

Was that why she hadn't been getting enough sleep? Because of me? Because she knew I was going to kill somebody? 

No, no, no—I didn't want this to have _anything to do with Lily. At all. Lily was one thing I did __not want to contaminate with myself—you notice I'm the one doing the contaminating, and not her. She might have been a muggleborn, and therefore someone with considerably dirty blood, while I was pureblooded, and, supposedly clean. _

But my soul was as black as the Gates of Hell. And hers? Purer than an angel's, no doubt. 

What could I do, to keep her mind at ease? Being a typical Gryffindor, she would, no doubt, worry herself senseless about the "anonymous sacrifice's" demise. I would need an alibi, of course. I could always get some Polyjuice Potion from Father's cabinet—it would take too long to brew some for myself. But who could I possibly get to impersonate me? It had to be someone I trusted greatly. 

There weren't many of those around, unfortunately. 

Crabbe? Goyle? No—they were both too stupid to be me.

Peter? No—he'd always been one to do what he wanted to do instead of follow orders—it wouldn't have been below him to try and _molest Lily in my guise. _

The mere _thought_ of that caused my fists to clench in anger. 

No.

I had to be rational right now. 

Think think think. Who could I use?

Severus. 

Yes. He could do it—given the right incentive. Why hadn't I thought of him before? Of course, it would take a great amount of force, if not _bribery, _to get him to do this. He'd never been one to deceive people on purpose. 

But then again, he _was_ a Slytherin—who knew what he did? Narcissa had been right—Severus was too withdrawn-- even _I_, his sometimes-roommate, knew next to nothing about him, or his family. He stayed at Hogwarts for the Holidays, that I was sure of.  

But what else was I sure of? 

For all I knew, he could've been an axe-murderer, waiting for his chance to murder Lily. 

Or not. 

As much as I'd like to go on talking about this mysterious hex-maker, this is _my_ story, so naturally, I'll talk more about myself. 

Now, where was I? 

Yes, I remember. My plan to keep _everything a secret from Lily. _

Well, naturally, I'd have to tell Severus about it.  

I rummaged through my desk and managed to find a spare piece of parchment paper. I scratched a quick note on it with my quill ('_Slytherin Common Room Fire Eleven Tonight') and sent it on its way via Juno (one of the many family owls—I believe we'd had more than Hogwarts, at that point). _

Leaning back on the chair, I must admit, I felt rather smug with my cleverness. _That_ affair was dealt with, at least.

I hoped Lily would be a bit more gullible, uncharacteristic though it was of her. Again, possibly to appease my waking conscience, I reminded myself that what I was doing was all for her.

Seriously. 

I'd even made a list.  

_Number One:_

**Joining Voldemort**—despite all the added privileges this gave me, it _would_ save her in the long run (or at least I thought so).  

_Number Two:_

**Spying on Her**—again, I _did_ seem to get much more out of this than she did, but at least it put my suspicions to rest, and therefore saved her from the wrath of my jealousy. 

_Number Three:_

**Lying to Her**—this, of course, did nothing at _all_ to help me. It was just to keep her a) in the dark, and b) at ease. Didn't want her to know she was consorting with a murderer cum mudblood-hating-deatheater, did I? 

_. . . _

Right. After. . . _further_ consideration, I will concede to the fact that **Lying to Her gave me, once again, a fringe benefit or two—asides from all stated above, it gave me the added advantage of Lily herself. _Not lying to her would have meant the immediate extermination of our relationship.  _**

And they call me _cynical_? I did _everything_ for her (almost). 

Some people could be _so_ nauseatingly blind. 

My watch told me it was still half-past ten. 

What could I do to kill time? Kill house-elves? I snickered mentally at the joke. 

What can I say? I was immensely bored. There was absolutely no chance in Hell I was going to go back down to the party. If I did, I would probably be ensnared yet again by my would-be-fiancée, Miss Narcissa Black.  

A knock sounded from my door. 

"Lucius?" A feminine voice inquired tentatively, a barely recognizable hint of arrogance and snootiness beneath the veil of meekness. 

Well, well. Speak of the devil. 

"Come in." I said, after I'd hidden all the incriminating evidence. 

"I hope you don't think me too forward, barging into your room like this"—here, she gave a small giggle which told me exactly _how forward she thought it was—"but I just _had_ to see you. Andromeda's being such a bore about Thomas or Teddie, and Bellatrix is just __awful. I was feeling so lonely over there, especially after you left me _all alone_." _

Had I been anybody else but myself, I would have shown irritation at her remark. But I was Lucius, and therefore I had the amazing ability to mask my emotions. 

"Well, Narcissa, I had—something to attend to. Lucky you came here when I'd just finished."  

"It's a _beautiful_ room," she murmured, touching the hangings of my bed. 

"Indeed. Elves have taste, don't they. But this isn't really _my_ room—I've never had a room here. Father doesn't want me to get too attached to anything, see. Because of that, I've been changing rooms about every half year. Only suites, of course—that's the third floor. Fourth floor's the guestrooms, first floor's the ballrooms and living rooms." I knew I was babbling quite a bit, but I had to say something. 

"What about the second floor then? Isn't that--" 

"Now, now, Narcissa, we all have _those floors. Father likes to call it his. . . __Grimoire." _

Have I confused you? Obviously a grimoire is a book of dark magic. Well, our second floor was hidden—one tended to go straight to the third unless he was given clearance. Why is it hidden? I'm sure you know that the Malfoys, of the past, present, and the future, are great believers of the Dark Arts. And. . . Some of the things we have in the second floor appear in the Ministry's Dark Artifacts List. Ha.  As if they'd be smart enough to see something right in front of them. So anyway, to end this little diatribe, Father calls the second floor his grimoire, as it is, literally, _stuffed_ with Dark books (dating since _before_ Merlin) and Dark Artifacts. 

The Malfoys are not the only pure blood family to have this—I am quite certain the Blacks have one as well, though not as extensive as ours, of course. 

Wait. . .Let me rephrase that—they must have _had one, before that fool __Sirius Black turned his back on his family, and they lost themselves an heir. _

I will return to the story, as this chapter seems to be taking quite long in the making.

"I see," Narcissa said delicately, as if she believed matters such as this were for men only. 

"Yes." I looked around my room conspiciously, letting the silence hang a bit. 

Did she have _no_ inkling whatsoever of my obvious discomfort? 

I WANTED TO BE ALONE, DAMN IT. 

WONDERFULLY ALONE. 

"Oh dear, my necklace is growing warm. Mother's looking for me. Sorry for keeping you so long. Ta, Lucius dear." She leaned forward to kiss my cheek, and as she did so, I caught an unfortunate whiff of her rather artificial smell.  

"Wonderful to meet you, Narcissa." I nodded, bowed down, and kissed the proffered hand like the expert that I was. 

Proud as I was (and still _am) of my ability to keep my emotions at bay, I am sorry to say I slammed the door a little louder than usual as she left. _

Oh well. 

Served the girl right, _intruding_ into my personal space. 

Now, I wouldn't have time to kill any more house elves. 

Damn it. 

In fact, I hadn't even _thought_ of what I was going to say to Severus. 

Just my luck I was a perfect orator. And that wasn't arrogance talking, either. 

I took my seat in my floo fireplace (not a regular fireplace where you could just floo—you didn't _honestly_ think I would _kneel_ down on the floor, did you? I bowed to no one [except maybe Lord Voldemort, but that part hasn't come yet]), cast down a generous pinch of floo powder, and said 'Slytherin Common Room Fire Place Three'. 

Then, it was just the usual—the spinning sensation, the dust, etcetera. Nothing new. 

"Lucius. What did you want to speak to me about?" 

Severus was being extremely grumpy today. I would have to handle him a bit carefully. 

"Well, I was just wondering if I could ask a favor." 

"A favor." One dark eyebrow rose insolently. A small part of me wondered what had gotten him in such a bad mood, but I dismissed it. 

"Yes—do your ears need cleaning? If they do, I know just the spell," I drawled sarcastically. When Severus was in a bad mood, you matched it—you didn't cower. _I_ never did, anyway. 

"No, Lucius, they do not. Now what is it you plan to ask of me?" He snapped. 

"Well. Gotten to the point, have we? I need protection." 

"Protection." 

"Will you _stop_ echoing every bloody thing I say? Yes, I said protection. No, not for me. Lily." I paused, to catch his reaction. He looked mildly surprised, but he'd hidden that emotion quickly. 

"Why would she need protection? From whom?" I drew a deep breath. 

"Me, possibly. No, I'm not a werewolf. I'm just. . . look. Lily is a mud—muggleborn, and you _know_ who she might need protection from." 

"I'm a pureblood wizard like yourself, with the same prejudices. What makes you think _I_ wouldn't hurt her? And would she want me to protect her? I'm _Severus Snape," he said the last two words sneeringly. _

"And if you are? That's the point—I want _you, not Parkinson, or, Merlin forbid, Crabbe or Goyle. They haven't got half your talent-- you're almost as good at the dark arts as I am—you would be able to protect her. And as for looks—you could always take the polyjuice potion and be me for a bit." _

"Be someone else for a bit. . . sounds nice. But I won't do this until I know _what_ you're planning to do. Tell me the truth, Lucius." 

"Lord Voldemort." I said curtly. "You've heard of him?" 

"Heard of him? He's all over the news--" 

"With his anti-muggle, anti-mudblood act. Yes, well, the ministry is hardly rallying to his cause, but just about every pureblood is." 

"And you're one of them?" 

"I am. I. . . have an initiation ceremony to undergo soon, once school starts." 

"I presume the initiation has something to do with murdering a mudblood." He seemed to be catching on quickly. 

"Of course it does. And. . . I need you to make sure that mudblood isn't Lily." 

"And at the same time make sure Lily doesn't know you're hurting anybody." 

"Yes." I'd always admired his ability to latch onto my train of thought. "So you _will_ do it?" I had the right combination of boredom and anxiousness. If I sounded too bored, he would think I had somebody else lined up for the job, and refuse. If I sounded too anxious, he might try to profit from the deal, which, though not too hard with all my financial resources at hand, could be bothersome.  

"How long did you say your initiation ceremony would be?" He was considering it—the tell-tale gleam from his eyes told it all. 

"Possibly all night." 

"Fine. I'll do it then." 

"Good." I nodded, and popped out of his fireplace.

Excellent. My plan was working out perfectly. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: 

Hello everybody, and no, I didn't fall off a cliff. How long did it take me to make this? Er. . . well, sorry I couldn't update sooner :D This, I fear, may be the last update of this year.

certain hot blonde apparates into the room

"Rhyming, now, are we?" 

author, pretending to be annoyed, instead looks like she is hyperventilating

"Rhyming? Of course not. That was just a—a--*sigh* Lucius, where _have_ you been?" 

evil Death Eater smirks mysteriously, waving a leather clad hand

"My Lord's business, what did you think, muggle?" 

said muggle turns a shade of red and turns back to the computer 

"Excuse me, but I happen to be typing the replies of the reviews to your story." 

pale blonde eyebrow rises

"Reviews? Indeed? Let _me_."

As you know, with wizards like Lucius, you don't really have a choice. And so, I am kicked off my computer—

Ah, hello little muggles. You've missed me? I'm too important to type reviews—I'll leave that to the author. I just wanted to—how do you say this—pop in. Remind you I'm still alive and hexing [a/n: I believe that was the wizard version of alive and kicking]. Yes well, dark mark burns my Lord calls. Farewell, muggles. Enjoy your pathetic little lives while you can. disapparates

How nice of him. 

Can you believe, for once, that I have something to say right now? About the chapter? Yes, Severus. He is, obviously, being picked on by the 'jerks of the year'—or, the marauders. Which is why he isn't exactly keen on being Severus Snape—and that sort of explains why he practically jumped at the opportunity. Okay, maybe he didn't jump, but he was being quite optimistic, for a Slytherin, anyway.  

Okay, THANK YOU's: 

**Dilligas**--*sigh* I don't want Lucius to turn into a murderer either. But he did *sigh*. Maybe I really _should_ make some sort of AU story and split this into two. . . you know, where Lucius doesn't do anything terrible and he ends up with Lily and they live happily ever after? *sob* but, I fear *Trelawney voice* that it cannot be. *sob*

**Black Snow**—hey!!! *huggles* you're back! Thanks for reviewing! :D

**LaurenK**—I'm glad you like the story, and I'm glad you think the 'quality' of fanfiction has gotten better :D Thanks for reviewing! 

**Briana—**I just read the last Flower Twins chapter—you know, the new one? It's great :D Sirius and Petunia's first fight, teehee. I'm just _such_ a lazy freak for not reviewing, so I'll tell you here how great it was! :D The Lily thing, telling Lucius not to do it, was more on the 'don't murder whoever it is' than don't spy on me :D Although I must admit I think she'd be pretty peeved if she ever knew Lucius was spying on her :D  I'm glad you like the way I write—I'm practicing what it's like to get into character and stuff, since, being the abnormal freak I am, I have nothing better to do :D Thanks for the wonderfully LONG review! :D

**Kingsdork**—thank you! I'm glad you like my story that much :D I hope this chapter was longer than the other one—I think it took me a great deal longer, anyway :D 


	42. The Train Station

Chapter 42 

Same place, same time. 

I was waiting, yet again, for the Hogwarts express. Early, as usual. But I had no doubt Lily wouldn't come early—she was really quite punctual, if you thought about it.

Then, I heard that sweet, clear voice I'd been so accustomed to hearing. I hadn't realized how much I'd—well—_missed_ it. I'd only been away from her for a little over a week—but I couldn't help missing her. The chill of the Manor and my family was so different from the warmth of the Evan's hovel—home, I mean.

"Lucius!" I stood there, not knowing what to say. 

It was strange to see her again—despite the nights I'd spent thinking and waiting impatiently for this day to come—I felt a change between us. 

I'd changed. I was always the one changing. And I would change even more---

I raised the corners of my lips ever so slightly and she ran toward me, enveloping me in a hug. I hugged her back rather awkwardly. 

What was wrong with me? I wanted with everything inside me to hold her and kiss her and tell her I loved her---

But I couldn't.

I wasn't used to her any more. Could she tell? Could she _feel_ the rift growing between us? To me, it was getting wider and wider.  

We stood there in silence. For once, I couldn't think up anything to say. _I_ felt like a stranger to _myself_. 

"Are you okay? You seem—subdued." She looked worriedly into my eyes. 

I forced a smile. 

"It's nothing. Recovering from the shock of seeing you again," I lied. Another lie. 

"Do I really look that terrible?" She joked, and, for the first time, I noticed she'd cut her hair. 

"You cut your hair." I couldn't say anything else. There wasn't anything else to say, was there? 

"Mum was bugging me again about it—she said I looked like a sheepdog. I said I wanted to get one in Diagon Alley, or maybe Hogsmeade, you know, but she _insisted_. And as a result, I now look--"

"Beautiful. And never think otherwise." Thankfully I was beginning to sound normal again. I even _felt_ a bit normal. A _bit_.

"But it's so. . . _short_," she said, fingering her now shoulder length locks. 

"You'll get used to it. I already have." But, before I could grab her and snog her senseless, the sound of trolleys ringing over the brick floor shook us out of our haze. 

It was a first year, chatting animatedly with her friends. 

How _lovely. Now Lily and I would have to 'hate' each other again. _

"Evans." I said coldly. 

"Malfoy." She said, just as coolly. 

We were great dramatists, no? 

She sat on her trunk and flipped open a book. 

I sat on mine and flipped through my mental arsenal of curses. 

Ah, silence. 

Wonderful, beautiful silence---

"OI, PRONGS, WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?" A voice bellowed. A familiar voice. 

Black.

Damn this all to Hell and back. So much for silence. 

"MUM JUST GAVE ME SOME CHRISTMAS MONEY, WHERE'S MOONY?" 

Did these hopeless dunderheads _know _how to regulate their voices? Or had they been hexed with a permanent Sonorous Charm? 

"HE COULDN'T GO HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS, BAD—er—_WEATHER_." 

Idiot-Prat-Tosser Number One (Black) and Idiot-Prat-Tosser Number Two (Potter) laughed simultaneously. 

"GOOD ONE, PADFOOT--"

As a prefect, I was going to have to tell them to—

"POTTER, BLACK, WILL YOU JUST _SHUT IT ?_" 

That wasn't me. And that voice was—I turned around—Lily? I snickered. They were being told to shut up by a girl. I snickered again. I couldn't help it—it just seemed so funny, to watch Lily lose her temper at those Idiot-Prat-Tossers. 

Evidently, their enmity had gone so far, that they'd actually stopped saying each other's first names. 

Strange, Lily hadn't told me this. But then, I'd never wanted to hear any news about Potter.

"Aww, Evans, don't be such a--"

"Jame—Potter, just--"An extremely red-faced Lily took a deep breath—"just be quiet. Some people are trying to enjoy the silence." 

'Some People' consisted of the three frightened first years, Lily, and, of course, myself. 

"Lils," Potter seemed to notice Lily's almost having called his first name, and he took advantage of that, using the smooth voice one used on rabid dogs, "Come on. Sirius and I," he gestured to Black, who had materialized behind him, "we were just talking. No need to have a nervous _breakdown over it--" _

An auburn eyebrow arched, and green eyes glared. 

"A breakdown? Really now. Talking? Shouting, was more like it. You _know all rules of Hogwarts apply to the station, and we are __definitely not allowed to _shout _in the halls." She raised the book she'd been reading: _A Prefect's Guide to Good Conduct _(was she really __that bored?), "and the eighteenth article of the seventh chapter states that--"_

"Ah, come off it, Evans. You wouldn't take points off your own _House, would you? Besides--"_

"Excuse me," I interrupted smoothly, "But I think I shall have that honor. Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter, for being annoying and loud. And that goes for Black, too." 

I sneered and turned away from them, my robes billowing behind me. Ha. Take that, brat.

Lily glared at me, but the look in her eyes told me she didn't mean it. She was trying not to laugh, probably. 

Potter never noticed.  

He didn't notice a lot of things. 

All the better for me, if you think about it.

"Sirius, James, what are you—Oh." It was—what was his name again? L. . . lu. . . lupy. . .Lupin. . . ? The _mild_ one. Who cared about his name. All I knew was that he was a prefect. 

"I suggest you tell both of your little _friends_ to leave, before I get more points off them, Lupin," I said his last name quickly and obscurely, taking a chance. No reaction. Good, I'd been right. 

"I'll get you for this, Malfoy--" I raised my eyebrow. 

"Threatening prefects, now, are we? Shame on you, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor. Another word, and it'll be ten." Potter's eyes flashed in anger, but I just smirked and walked away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**A/N:**

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!!

My Christmas and New Year's gift thing to all of you:D I was supposed to give it earlier before I left for Taiwan, but I forgot, in the flurry of packing :D Hope you all like this chapter :D 

I don't have any review-replies for this chappie, so I'll just thank you all to reviewing!

Btw, **Nikki**—I named the last chapter forty-one since I felt like it, I guess :D I was going to name it 'Thoughts: Through the eyes of a Malfoy', but, I don't know, Forty-One just came out when I typed :D

Lucius was feeling weird around Lily because he just _was_—you know that feeling you have when you meet a friend you haven't seen in years, and there's a bit of awkwardness? Yes, that's what it was like, except it was even worse, since you know, Lucius _is_ feeling a bit guilty about everything he's going to do. 

And **Kingsdork—**no, you're not stupid :D I guess that was a pretty confusing chappie, but basically he just wanted Sevvy to take polyjuice to have an alibi for himself, so Lily can't accuse him, if she ever finds out, of killing whoever, since he was, supposedly, with her. That was a confusing sentence, but I'm thinking fast, since my mom's calling me for lunch and I have to go!!! :D

REMEMBER TO REVIEW!!!


	43. 2,568

**Chapter 43**

The chill of the late winter wind pierced me through my heavy black robes, and I walked more swiftly, determined to ignore it. I had more on my mind tonight than wind. 

I had death. 

The short journey to the Forbidden Forest and beyond seemed much longer than it had with Lily beside me. But I didn't want to think about her now. 

_"Tonight, Lucius. It's a full moon. A blood moon. Be ready." _

That had been Garadnon's _cryptic_ message. Yes, it _was_ happening earlier than I had expected, but I had been expecting it nonetheless. I would have to get it over with. 

Lily, I'd managed to avoid after the train station incident. I hoped she hadn't noticed. I'd given the pre-brewed potion, with a single, silver blonde strand of my hair, to Severus. He would do his part. 

_"Don't do it, Lucius. Please don't."_

Her words came back to me a whisper, her touch, a phantom caress on my lips. 

No, I would do it. I pushed all thoughts of her the very back of my mind, boxed up along with my conscience. I wouldn't need those tonight. 

Tonight, I would need hatred, and cold, hard cruelty. I wouldn't need anger—I wouldn't need emotion. Killing with emotion would be killing with passion. And killing with passion would destroy me, for passion would melt the heart I'd spent so much time hardening.

If my father had taught me anything, at least he'd taught me that. 

The forest made all kinds of noises at night. A herd of Thestrals rested on the clearing to my right. 

Iole. 

I could see them because of her. 

What would she think of me? 

I shook my head, as if to shake the thoughts away. 

Iole was _dead_. Dead people didn't care about the living. At least _I_ wouldn't care about the living, if _I_ were dead. Unless I wanted to plague them. But that dwelled too far from the topic. 

The orange glow of firelight shone through a gap in the bushes. I veered to the left. Dense thorns tore at the expensive fabric of my cloak and all skin I'd left exposed. 

But that didn't matter either.

What mattered was the figure, standing before me. Lord Voldemort?

No. Garednon. 

"Portkey. Touch the fire." 

I knew better than to ask questions. If the fire burned me, I would only suffer very little, compared to the suffering I would surely endure if I didn't touch it. 

So I did—touch it, I mean. 

I felt nothing, save for the familiar pulling sensation one experiences during portkey travel. 

Rows and rows of black cloaked people were present when I felt the ground slam back onto my feet. They would watch my initiation. 

The Dark Lord himself was standing, brown eyes glittering red in the light of the fire. A slow smile appeared on his face, when he saw me. 

"Lucius. You have come. Are you ready?" 

"I am ready." 

"You are to purge dirty blood, and purify through pain. At the same time, you will show us your extensive knowledge on curses, hexes, jinxes, but keep the—_subject_—alive until the last curse, where _it_ will be exterminated. Are you ready?" 

"I am ready." 

Unless the subject was—

Lily. 

Long hair, as red as blood, shone just as bright as the eyes of my future Master.    

Eyelashes, matted with tears, fluttered open with a rough kick from one of the dark robed minions. 

Lily. 

How had they taken her? Had Severus let her go? What could I do now—kill her? Kill her, and save myself. 

The moment I'd been dreading for months had finally come. 

Lily had known. Hadn't she told me of a dream, where I'd killed her? I'd just laughed nervously. I would never let that happen, I said. But now, was I going to let it? 

"L-Lucius? Is that you?" She said my name differently. Then I saw the blue eyes, and the long hair. 

Lily had cut her hair—and her eyes were green. Not blue. 

This wasn't Lily. This was Madeleine. I ignored her.__

"Nobody I know is going—they're all busy. . .Nad's gone off somewhere. . . I think I'll sleep early tonight. . ."

****

Her words came back to me. 

"Garednon tells me you're rather. . ._fond_ of this mudblood. Am I correct?" 

Garednon had told Lord Voldemort, and they'd taken the wrong girl. I would have to make them believe they'd taken the right one. 

"That, my Lord, is half true. _Fond_? Slightly. She'd been my little whore for a while now, but I've never developed any _real_ feelings for this piece of trash." It stung my soul to say it—but I did. To keep Lily safe. That was what I had to do. That was my main goal. 

Madeleine was nothing. 

"Ah, but killing her will bring you more pleasure, will it not?" 

I grinned, with the ease of a practiced liar. 

"Of course it will." 

I raised my wand to begin my task. 

"A moment, if you please, Lucius. As I've previously mentioned, you will have to use as many curses as possible, without killing the girl, until the last, which will be the Killing Curse. I trust you know that?" I nodded. 

He continued. 

"The higher the number of curses you know, the higher your rank, and the deeper your ties go, with this group. Garadnon is, at present, the highest, with a little over nine-hundred different curses. See if you can do better. Begin." 

I took a deep breath, and raised my wand again. I would start with the Jelly-Legs jinx—it was simplest. Then the Leg-Locking Spell, with the Full Body Bind afterwards, and then maybe I could do Severus' Hang-nail Hex. The _Subfauceaiam_ (Suffocating) curse would do for a while, but not too long. . .I could always place a _Pyresium_ spell (that induced high fever), if that wasn't too risky. 

I sped through my mental arsenal of curses. 

My ears were met with pleas, and punctuated with screams. They did nothing. My mind was on what I had to do, and I did it. 

Sweat beaded on my forehead, despite the coldness of the night. 

My arm stung the entire time, burning from the exertion of holding my wand up for so long.

All the while, Lord Voldemort sat, and watched me. That didn't bother my concentration—I was used to being watched. I kept my expression closed. 

Time and time again, I've tried to remember what I felt then—the first time I'd killed a human being. But, to tell the truth, I believe I felt nothing. It was like torturing a stone that screamed and begged. 

I didn't enjoy the screaming—it hurt my ears. But the begging—ah, it was bliss. I felt like a god. It was a rush of power that put me on a high. 

"_Avada Kedavra_." A flash of green light, and the screaming stopped. 

I inhaled deeply the heady smell of blood and death. 

It wasn't the most fragrant perfume, I must admit, but it wasn't all that bad either. 

"Two-thousand-five-hundred-and-sixty-eight." 

The numbers meant nothing to me. I stood still, and stared at the dead woman before me. It could have been Lily. But it hadn't been. 

****


	44. Blood Red Impurity

Chapter 44 

I woke up that morning, feeling oddly calm and indifferent. My arm tingled painfully—but then, I was no stranger to pain. I'd caused a great deal of it only the night before. The mark my left forearm bore throbbed, the red of it reminding me of the blood I'd spilled. 

I was a murderer. 

I'd killed an innocent, for no reason at all. 

And the worst thing was, I felt no remorse anymore, whatsoever. 

The pages of my mind flipped back to the night before—after my first kill. 

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~      

I'd entered the room Severus and I shared, to see another version of myself, standing in front of the mirror. My sudden entrance had startled him—he must have been admiring himself (or, me—he was, after all, in a replica of my body), and cursing the gods about his lack of fortune at not having been born a Malfoy. Or a Lucius. But I digress. 

"You're back," he'd said, pointlessly. 

"Obviously. What happened tonight? With Lily?" Lying down on the bed, I'd stared at the ceiling. Regardless of the lack of expression on my face, I found it a bit unnerving to be staring at another me. 

"She wasn't feeling well, actually. Hasn't been feeling well for the past few days. I'm surprised you didn't know." He looked at me, with an eyebrow raised, just the way I would look at him. He'd managed to copy my air of sarcasm perfectly. So the Potions-slash-Dark-Arts prodigy wasn't bad at acting. Not surprising, for somebody who lived to torment himself with the art of precision.

"I'm not omniscient. Yet." There was no way in heaven or hell I would take the bait he was setting up for me. He expected me to _beg_ the information from him, while he gave it to me in bits in pieces? I was a Malfoy, and I didn't beg. In Slytherin Standards, this was, actually, a bit of a turning point in the conversation. Climactic. You see, if I _had_ asked him again, it would show that I needed the information more desperately than he'd thought. And that would give him the upper hand. 

Friends though we were, the Slytherin Standard pulsed through our veins stronger than anything else. 

The room had been silent, then, while he weighed his options. Eventually, he'd realized it was futile to even _attempt_ gaining power over me, and he'd started to talk. Rather unwillingly, I must admit, but what was the difference? 

"I found her in the hospital wing." My eyes had drifted shut, as I tried to form his words into clear pictures inside my blood-tainted mind. Anything Lily had always appeared clean and pure, and, even then, even after the murder, I had not been disappointed. "She'd been there for around a day and a half—not because she was really sick, but because Madame Pomfrey wanted her to rest. Her roommates had thought she'd gone daft—she kept talking in her sleep, and she'd only get a few hours of it at night. She wouldn't take any Dreamless Sleep Potion, even when Madame Pomfrey insisted. She said she needed her dreams, that they'd tell her things. They must have been ready to send her to St. Mungo's by then.

"I—in my guise, went to visit her. She was happy to see me—she was happy to see you. I asked her to tell me what had happened, but she wouldn't say. All she could say was 'You're here, you didn't do it, you didn't', and she'd fallen asleep on my lap before I could say anything else."  

"You're sure she suspected nothing?" 

"I doubt she was conscious enough to suspect anything, Lucius. She hadn't slept for days—Pomfrey said she'd been living Hydrating and Food Spells—she wouldn't eat or drink."  

Silence.

"When does the potion wear off?" I meant the Polyjuice. 

Severus shrugged. "A few minutes, I guess. Soon enough." 

I nodded, satisfied. At least I wouldn't have to stand seeing another, less-Lucius Lucius. I was, suddenly, seized by an impulse to see myself before—before I'd killed. Before I'd thrown away the last shred of innocence I had. 

"Show me your arm. Your—left arm." Raising his (or, should I say, _my_) eyebrow, he held 'my' arm in front of me. Almost feverishly, I raised the sleeve of his robe higher, to see nothing by the pale white expanse of untouched flesh. My flesh.

"Why are you--" He was confused. He knew nothing. 

For once in my life, I envied Severus. I lifted up the sleeve of my own robe, to show him the red that marked the flesh there—the red that had, minutes ago, seemed to be a mark of pride, and the red that was now the imperfection that seemed to corrupt it. I was dirty. . . this was a mark that would not wash off. . . I was _marked_, an object--

"I—I'm going now. To my room," I said, unnecessarily, backing out in a manner foreign to myself. I could _not_, for the life of me, stop shaking. All the energy I'd possessed seemed to have drained out of my body at that instant. 

It was a relief to be back in my quarters, alone. 

Except that. . . I didn't _want_ to be alone now. I had, a few moments ago. But now. . . Now, I wanted to be with Lily. Lily, who was pure and innocent, untouched by the evil that was me. 

My heart thrummed loudly in my chest—I could hear it in my ears. In harmony with the question: Would I go to see her? Would I would I would I. . .

I wouldn't. 

Every nerve in my body shouted for her touch. I craved her, the way muggles craved their drugs. 

But I couldn't have her. 

How could I have been so. . .so. . . _stupid_? I'd thought killing someone—joining Voldemort would protect her. 

I'd been so wrong. I'd made her even more vulnerable. 

Garednon had tried to _kidnap_ her—he'd tried to use her as a testament of my faith. And thank Merlin, thank the gods, thank anything-- he'd gotten the wrong person. 

But it would only be a matter of time before he saw her in his class again. Only a matter of time before he realized his error. He was stupid, but he wasn't stupid enough. 

I had to protect her. 

Everything seemed to boil down to that fact. 

I would burn in that rotting pit of hell I loved so much. And I would burn smiling, just to see her safe and happy. 

Now, pay attention to this moment. 

You know why? 

Because this was the moment, _the_ moment, the _moment_, that I realized the only way Lily would ever be safe—the _only_ way—was without me. 

If I broke it off with her permanently, My Lord would find no reason to harm her. 

She would be safe. Not only from them, but also from me. 

I'd drifted off to a troubled sleep, my body aching for the feel of her. 

A whisper in my mind—the last echo of my conscience: _Like all pains, this too will fade._

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~

Of course, I can say this from my vantage point twenty years into the future: it didn't.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Author's** **Notes**: 

Do you all notice this is the first time Lucius has ever called himself stupid? And meant it? Poor Lucius. *sigh* He seemed very sad about all this when he asked me to type the chapter. Ah, well. 

**Briana** **Marie** asked me why Garednon (or, Voldie, the Supreme Evil himself) was able to mistake Madeleine for Lily, etc. If you have the same question, and I never really did clear it up in the last chapter, just read the reply I gave her below. :D

BTW, I emphasize the line in the first bit of the fic (the morning _after_ the kill) 'I had no remorse anymore, whatsoever.' _Anymore_, meaning he'd harbored some guilt and regret over what he'd done (which was pretty obvious the night of the kill) but it had disappeared by the time he woke up. Read the reply I gave **kingsdork** for more info :p

AND one more thing: I'm not sure if the Dark Mark is red when it's inactive. . . is it? I was too tired to look in the book (post finals doldrums, you see). I know it burns black when voldie calls, but what happens to it when he isn't calling, but he's still there? If anyone can tell me, I'd be very happy for the information! :D

**THANKS**:

**Addy**—thanks for reviewing! I think I can say with all honestly this is the last chapter of Lucius with a semblance of a soul. Because afterwards—he just gave it away to save Lily. Sad, but true. . . *sniffles into a piece of tissue* 

**Briana** **Marie**—thanks for that review! I'm glad you asked, so I can explain. Madeleine looks like Lily, lives close enough to her, etc. Garednon obviously does not get his work done properly. As for him not seeing Lily in class—Lily was fortunate enough not to have had DADA classes the first few days of the new year—and when she should have, she was stuck in the hospital wing. :D A bit lame, I guess, but the lamest things save our lives! :p She was lucky. Of course the problem comes next: What will happen when Garednon sees Lily in class? *scary music* Ask Lucius. Or, you could wait—it's coming up very soon. And it's a sign of THE END. . . 

**Kingsdork**—thanks for reviewing! Now that I think about it, Lucius seems to be guilty about the murder itself, not about the murder-ee (Madeleine, that is). But all the guilt went away the next day. I guess Lucius just made a resolution to forget it, and he did. If only _my_ resolutions were that strong! :p

**Virgin** **Mari**—I'm glad you like the fic! And even gladder you like Lucius/Lily. Forbidden couples are great :p Thanks for reviewing!

****


	45. The Menandrus

Chapter 45

Lily. Such a simple, four-lettered word. And it would only take a simple, two worded curse to erase it from my life.

Don't be fools—of course I wasn't planning to kill her. I wasn't 'off my rocker' as you muggles say—wasn't then, and never will be.

No, I was just thinking how easily someone as trivial, as pathetic, as Garednon could kill her. Could remove her from existence. Today was Saturday. Lily had Defense Against the Dark Arts on Monday. And, blind as Garednon was, there was no doubt he would notice a student thought to be dead miraculously come back to life. Hell, I'm sure he was suspicious enough not to hear any reports from Dumbledore about a certain missing Gryffindor.

But it was Hogsmeade weekend.

And many, many things went unnoticed during Hogsmeade weekend.

The only way to ensure Lily's absolute safety was to tie off loose ends. And my loose end, of course, was Garednon.

I wouldn't mind killing him.

Maybe I'd even enjoy it.

I'd never liked him, anyway, the bastard.

But how?

Obviously, cursing was completely out of the question. It would be too easy to find out who did it—a simple _Prior Incantato _on everyone's wands, and the murderer would be caught. News would catch, Lord Voldemort would find out, and then _I_ would die. 

And I didn't want to die yet.

So Garednon would have to be poisoned. Now, poisons were Severus' department—not mine. As I said, when I look at it objectively, Severus would have made the better Death Eater.

But back to the point. Out of the millions and millions of potions out there, which was the right one for Garednon? A quick, simple death wouldn't do. No, no. That would be a mercy to him. It would have to be something drawn out—something magic would not cure. Something anti-poisons wouldn't detect. Something like…

The Menandrus. The poison my Great Aunt Vialett had used on her third husband. Perfect. Of course, I only knew the lore of the poison—where she'd found it—_how_ she'd changed it to suit her.

To explain the subtle workings of this potion, I will have to take a few minutes of your time, and bore you, as explanations always do.

Unlike many other poisons, the Menandrus is specific—I could drink it and live--only Garednon could drink and die. This specificity is due to the presence of the essence (interesting rhyme, I know) of the person—similar to the Polyjuice mix. The poisonous substance itself, of course, is the scale of the Red Mermaid—a very rare substance, and found only in the shadiest areas of the Black Markets.

Now, I don't mean Black Market the way muggles mean it—I mean it literally: the Black Market, owned by the Black Family. So that would be easy to obtain.

As for the rest of the potion, however—the catalysts for the poison to work, and everything else—I did not know. Of course the Library did—so I would have to do some research today. But I would have to hurry. The potion worked lethally, but, as potions went, quite slowly as well. If all went according to plan, Garednon would drink it tonight in front of the entire school, have a mild stomach ache by late evening, enjoy a rash or ten by Sunday's mid-morning, be too sick to teach on Monday, and die by Tuesday.

I was wonderful at making plans, wasn't I? No one would suspect the Menandrus poison—unless someone was already expecting it. See, the Menandrus poison, as I said, is very specific and targets the person's allergies—if he had none, it would create its own.        

Yes, it would be the Menandrus. Now, I would have to get the ingredients. And, where else would I get it, but the school's very own library? It would be too long to wait until nightfall, however—I would have to go now. Invisibility cloak was a definite yes—wouldn't it be rather obvious and coincidental if I marched up, borrowed a book on poisons, and a teacher dropped dead the following week? Of course, I needed more than the invisibility cloak—I'd need a position spell. A spell that would ensure no one would see any books floating in the library whilst I obtained what I needed.

A few moments of preparation, and there I was, in the library (at last). I'd snuck in behind Trelawney, who was too worried about Madame Pince's astrological signs to feel my presence with her—ahem _third_ eye. If she even had one. 

I whispered the position spell ('_Freosium_'), hopped in over the gate, and searched for the book. A minute or two or searching, and I'd found what I was looking for: 'A Thousand Preposterously Poisonous Potions'. The Menandrus was there in rather fine print, along with its ingredients.

As suspected, I would need Red Mermaid Scales—but along with that, Beetle Brains, Ground Unicorn Hoof, Salamander Eyes, and Toad Spleen. I gave an involuntary shudder. How was Garednon going to _not_ taste anything? My eyes roamed further down the page, and I found the assurance I needed: 'The poyson blendes well with the conseeling adgent.' There it was. In terrible, sixteenth century spelling. The potion would taste like the juice he was drinking. Thank evilness for small blessings.

I made a quick copy of the 'recipe', undid the position spell, and left the library, whistling a tune beneath the cloak. A slow smile formed on my lips. Not exactly a happy one, but. . . it was a smile. A rather evil one at that.

Next on my list—the Black Market.

Author's Notes:

I'm sorry it took me so long to update! I'm a terrible updater! Terrible, terrible, terrible! You'll see a small bit of Lucius/Lily interaction (or, _un_interaction) in the next chapter—a bit sad, but you all know how this story is going to end. I'm a bit tired right now, so hope you all enjoy this chapter, and send me your reviews to tell me what you think! But, just for the record, this chapter was ready last month! Unfortunately, my dad, in the process of reformatting my comp, deleted it. You could just imagine how angry I was! And, how angry Lucius was. So I lost a bit of interest in retyping everything—you know what it's like. But, I finished the chapter, and, short as it may be, at least I finished it, right? The next one will be soon. Er. Sooner.

Thank you so much to all who reviewed last time—I'm just too tired to reply right now, teehee.


	46. The Black Market

**Chapter 46**

"And where are _you_ headed, Lucius?" I sighed, though not loud enough for him to hear. He must have been half deaf anyway. I turned around to see Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts' current loon-master extraordinaire.

"Hogsmeade, Headmaster." I was lying blatantly to a man who they said could read minds. But I felt no fear. Dumbledore was harmless. Relatively.

"Really, Lucius?" He was analyzing me behind his ridiculous half-moon spectacles.

"Yes, Headmaster." I tell you, it took a great amount of effort not to roll my eyes at him. It annoyed me to no end when people demanded confirmation for things. The only people allowed to do that, in my book, were: A. Myself, and B. Lily. That was it.

"Then—I wonder—as a prefect—could you do your headmaster a favor and get me something nice from Honeydukes? Tell them Albus ordered it. They won't charge." Another, mischievous smile. My lip twitched in a pale semblance of one, for courtesy's sake.

"Of course, Headmaster." Then hurried out, ignoring the chill of the January air. What did that fool think he was doing? At least I knew how to Apparate.

The journey to the gates of Hogwarts didn't take very long. Asides from a few reminiscences, not much went through my mind. Then, of course, I apparated to the Black Market.

The Black Market, as I know I mentioned previously, was owned by the Blacks. It was in a secluded place to the far north of Hogsmeade. Stalls upon stalls of smuggled goods were piled upon each other in a way that would have been impossible, had their foundations not been supported by magic. Dark alleyways sprang up in the smallest cracks. The markets lacked in proper ventilation, and, therefore, smelled perpetually of poisonous fish, and dragon dung. Those two were the most popularly smuggled items, both being rather dangerous if treated with the proper ingredients.

The ministry knew all about it, of course. But, their knowledge of it (and continued ignorance) was kept very hush-hush. The Blacks had always been on the Ministry's top-ten list of most. . . _ahem_. . . charitable wizarding families. The Malfoys were number one; what else did you expect? And so, due to our overwhelmingly 'charitable' impulses, the Ministry allowed us certain. . . _privileges_.

Instead of following the disgusting, poorer-than-a-Weasley crowd into the alleys, I veered sharply to the left, towards a normal, if slightly derelict, building. If I was right (and, I always was), I would fine none other than my—well, you muggles would call him a godfather—but, in wizarding terms, he was a First Uncle. Vincente Mordum Black.

I rapped sharply on the door. Silence. He was performing the spell to see who was inside, no doubt. After a moment, the door opened.

"Uncle," I acknowledged. He nodded.

"What brings you here, Lucius?" He motioned for me to sit down, but I shook my head, no. This, in the subtle workings of Pureblood manners, showed that I was in a hurry.

"An. . . ingredient, for a potion I was working on."

"And this ingredient might be?"

"The scale of the Red Mermaid. I hope it's available this time of year, Uncle—is it in season?" A bit of small talk, to be polite.

"You're a rather lucky young man, aren't you, Lucius? I just ordered a casket of them yesterday. You see, an acquaintance of mine ordered, and I decided to get more just in case. It's in the store room at the back. I'll take you."

And so I found myself in the store room, enchanted to be as cold as a muggle 'fridge', for the very same purposes. But, obviously, not for the very same ingredients.

"Here it is." He gave me small packet which gave off quite powerfully the smell of fish. It wasn't red, as the name indicated— instead it was closer to maroon.

As I was leaving the office, something—I don't know what—prompted me to ask him the question that had been niggling in my mind.

"Who _was_ that acquaintance of yours that ordered the scales?"

"Oh, you probably haven't heard of him, locked up in that school of yours. Great wizard—might be Salazar himself reincarnated, some think. Voldemort. Lord Voldemort, that's his name. Rather odd sounding. In a nice way, of course," he amended hastily. This in itself was strange—Vincente Mordum Black was not one to 'amend' things. He said them, and meant it. My Lord must have done something for him—or to him.

"Good-bye, Uncle. Father will settle the account?"

"Of course. Good-bye, Lucius."

My next stop, thanks to a particularly meddling, half-fossilized Headmaster, was Hogsmeade. To get _candy_. In _Honeydukes_. I hadn't been to that place since I was five. I wasn't really one for sweets, unless the occasional urge took me.

I apparated to far end of the village, conscious of how the constraints of time were holding me. I would have to hurry (and I hated doing this profusely). Just as I'd begun what _could_ have been a nice little walk, I head something. Or, unfortunately, some_one_.

"Look, Evans, how bad could it be? We still have a bit before it gets dark. Let's go somewhere. Just because we're at each others throats every other second, doesn't mean we can't have fun." Potter. And Lily. Of all the people I had to overhear, it _had_ to be them.

"Well, _Potter_, you know I wouldn't go out with you if you were the last person on earth, don't you?" I tried not to laugh.

"Do you have to be so harsh?"

"Do you have to be so thick? Okay, I'm sorry. But really James. I—I'm waiting for someone." Who was she waiting for? Not I, surely—we hadn't seen each other in days, and I'd made no plans with her. Unless. . .

"Fine then." Potter stalked off like a petulant child. Interesting.

Silence. A rather _long_ silence. I was afraid to move—that would make noise. But that road was the only way to Honeydukes. My mind raced. Was there another way? If I went by the old bridge—

Sobs. Muffled, and held back, but they were sobs. I recognized them. I'd heard her cry before, and I'd hoped I would never have to hear those heart wrenching sniffles again.

"Lucius. Stop trying to hide from me. If you don't want to see me anymore, you can just say it." Her voice trembled. For once, I knew what was going on in her mind. She felt rejected.

"Lily—it's not that—I--" I'd never bothered to make excuses before.

"Then what _is_ it? What makes you send Severus disguised as yourself to visit me in the hospital wing? What makes you avoid me like the plague? I thought you were different. I thought you understood me. I thought—I thought—I don't know what I thought. But—it sounds stupid to say it now, but—I thought you cared for me. Enough to—to say goodbye properly, at least." She was being bitter. My sweet, innocent, wonderful Lily was being bitter and it was all my fault.

"How did you know?" My voice had declined in its quality— and, as it seemed, my mind. I couldn't lie to her. Not anymore.

"I didn't notice it then—not right away. But you—he—he smelled of herbs. He didn't smell like you—you smell—rich. Expensive. Like a Malfoy. He smelled—different. I knew something was—off—but I didn't want to believe it." She sat on the grass at the side of the road, her head buried in her hands. Then, she looked back up at me, green eyes clear and piercing. I'd never before experienced the power she held in her gaze. "What did you _do_ Lucius? And I _know_ you're going to do something else. I just don't know what. You don't tell me anything anymore."

"Lily—I—I can't talk right now. Prefect business. Headmaster wants something important." All right, that was stretching the truth a bit there, but I didn't want to have to tell her.

"If we can't talk now, then when _can_ we talk?" I couldn't refuse her. I never could.

"The edge of the Forbidden Forest. In an hour." My heart was beating faster with every word. What was I doing? No sooner had I asked myself this when I found the answer. I knew what I was doing. I was going to tell the truth. Most of it.

And with that, I turned away from her, and headed for Honeydukes.

**Author's Notes:**

The big, dreaded, _final_ talk is coming. It's not the end—that'll be in a few chapters. I'm a bit sad right now. Blame it on PoA. EEP!!!! I can't wait to see it!! I was supposed to watch it tomorrow on it's opening, but, as I'm watching it with Granny (who had a previous engagement), I have to wait 'til Thursday. Ho hum. Oh well.

Thank you to Briana Marie! I mean, you review my story even though I haven't read yours in ages!! Hope it didn't take too long to write this up! smile


	47. Means to an End

**Chapter 47**

One hour. That was all it took to brew the poison that would kill Garednon. It was late only afternoon, but clouds obscured the sun and cast a shadow over all of Hogwarts. I would deliver the potion to the elves _after _my talk with Lily. Which, I hoped, wouldn't take too long.

She was walking towards me, the world's most somber expression on her beautiful face. Lily. My Lily.

"What did you want to talk about?" I snapped. I'd made my voice purposely harsh and cold. She flinched. I wanted to tell her I was sorry and I never meant to hurt her, but I just couldn't. That would make everything harder.

"The truth. About everything. Don't lie to me, Lucius. It hurts when you do." Her voice never wavered.

"You want the truth? You. You are my truth." I couldn't stand being a Malfoy to her. I would be her Lucius for just a while longer. "Everything I do is to protect you. You're like something beautiful I'm afraid to touch. Because I'm afraid to ruin you. To infect you. With me."

"You don't have to protect me--"she began, but I shook my head.

"I do. When you see something so infinitely perfect and pure and nice you don't want to mar it." My voice was, by now, embarrassingly husky. I blinked quickly. I was _not_ going to cry.

"You wouldn't infect me with you. And I'm not perfect. We're all the same, Lucius."

"NO! Lily—Lily, just—I can't be with you anymore. I can't. You know it. I've done things. Things I shouldn't have. Things I thought would make everything better. Your dreams—they tell you the truth."

"Then what _is_ the truth, Lucius?" The world was spinning fast. Faster. And through the whirlwind of terror I saw Her. Her auburn hair. Her green eyes. So perfect. How come I hadn't noticed? It was surreal—to see myself wrench the sleeve of my cloak up my arm. So she could see it. The Mark. I heard her sharp intake of breath. She reached out to touch it but I pulled away. I didn't want any part of it touching her.

"There. That's the truth. I'm a Death Eater. A follower of Lord Voldemort. A hater of—_mudbloods_," I spat the word out. "Not just a hater, either. A _killer_. A murderer."She'd shut her eyes. In disappointment? In fear? I could kill her. It was in my power to. It was my _duty_ to. But I wouldn't.

"Lucius—you could just go to Dumbledore--"

"Have you _heard_ anything I've said? He has followers. Everywhere. Every pureblood. If I went to Dumbledore, could that fool protect me? Could he? Could he protect you? He couldn't protect her."

"Her? Who?" I couldn't find it in myself to look into her eyes. Lily's clear, emerald eyes, so filled with pain. Pain that should have been mine. "Who?" She repeated.

"Madeleine. She's dead. I killed her." My words were dull; muted. Somehow, my legs gave way, and I was kneeling. In front of a mudblood. No. In front of Lily. There was a difference.

"You--you killed her?" She said softly. Her hands trembled, and she was inching away from me. I found myself reaching for her, even though I knew—knew _deep_ down that I was just supposed to let her run away. "You killed her." And she cried. Tears from the bottom of her soul. "_Why_ Lucius? _Why_?" She looked up at me with her tear streaked face, and it was all I could do not to hold her.

"Because I didn't want it to be you."

"What?" Disbelief stained her voice. I'd lost her trust. The most precious thing in the world, next to her love.

"I didn't want it to be you. They—they knew. About us. It would be an—ultimate test of my loyalty, if I killed _you_ for them. They—got the wrong person."

"So you killed her? To protect me?" I'd never seen her like this before. I couldn't read her mind—the expressions on her face came too fast and too jumbled for me to understand. She'd buried her face in her hands now, and I could see the tears that coursed through her fingers. "My friends told me. I told them about us—that we were 'just friends', when they got suspicious. Slytherins were bad, but Malfoys were the worst, they said. Especially Lucius Malfoy. 'He'll give you trouble'; 'stay away from his sort'." A short, sarcastic laugh. "Of course I didn't believe them. I thought—I thought I saw something _in_ you, that--that nobody _saw_. You weren't one-dimensional. You weren't even three-dimensional. You were full of twists and turns and surprises and--" her breath caught, and she was quiet again. I knelt there. Near her—so close I wanted to touch her—but I couldn't. Not now. Then, she spoke up, her voice deep and hoarse with pain. "Who are _they_?" She wouldn't look at me anymore. I felt--literally _felt_—an iron hand clutch the innermost part of my being and wring it. Breathing was harder than usual, and the world still hadn't stopped spinning around Her.

"Lord Voldemort. And—and Garednon. Professor Garednon."

"Professor? A death eater? But—so—he thinks I'm--" She was shaking her head. She'd stood up by then, and she was and moving further and further away from me.

"Dead. And when he sees you, he'll know he made a mistake. And he'll go after you. Again. And this time, he'll get the right person. I'll take care of it."

"We have to tell the Headmaster, Lucius. We have to."

"And what? I told you, he doesn't have any power. We tell Dumbledore, he tells the minister of magic, and then what? Garednon goes to Azkaban? And Lord Voldemort will come after you. And he's not as easy to get as Garednon."

"So what do you suggest. . . we—do?" She'd hesitated over the 'we'. She wanted nothing to do with me. I understood.

"_We_ will do nothing. There isn't anymore '_we'_ Lily. There can't be. Your _friends_ were right. Find a little Gryffindor boy for yourself. We—we're not right together." My resolution was diamond-hard. I could not—_would_ not—involve her in anything. That would be the safest way. "_I_ will handle the Garednon business. Go. Have fun. Live."

She nodded, infinite sadness, disappointment, and pure frustration evident on her pale face. She turned away, but some instinct led me to grab her hand and hold it tightly. I felt her flinch, but she met my eyes—this one, last time.

"Just—Lily--" words were finding it difficult to form in my head—all I could think was that she was leaving me and I would never be with her again—but eventually, I managed to croak, "remember. When you're happy, and married, and—_safe_—just remember me. The Death Eater who loved the Mudblood. And—still does. Remember that." I held her tighter, trying to enforce the conviction of my words; strangely angry at the gloves that separated us.

An almost imperceptible nod. "I loved you too." She squeezed my hand, I let go, and she turned, walking away in the moonlight. She'd used the past tense.

Now, remember this moment. This _exact_ moment. Because this was the last time I touched her. Alive.


	48. Passing Time

Hello! Took a while to get this chapter up—not because of boredom, but because of laziness. Sorry! The reason for this quick note is to tell you guys that this chapter spans a whole lot of time, in case you get confused. It's short, I know. But it spans from right after the previous chapter, up to nearly 3 years after graduation (Lucius'). The reason for this is because I didn't want the story's falling action (is it? confused...) part to be all about Garednon, since, as you know, it's supposed to be all about Voldemort. I did _not_ skip a few years to give the story a rush ending! Lucius would kill me for that!

But, yes, the end is near. Very near. scary music

**Chapter 48**

You know what happened afterwards. I poisoned Garednon, he died, and the irreversible rift between Lily and I grew deeper and wider. She knew I'd done it.

When Dumbledore announced the death of our teacher, all went according to plan and no death threats were suspected. He'd suffered a prolonged allergic attack—I had been lucky that these attacks had come often even before the use of the Menandrus.

Instead of the usual pangs of guilt, I felt nothing but the cold glare of her eyes against my back. When I turned around to look at her, she'd turned the other way. Maybe I'd imagined it. But my imagination was limited, regarding these things.

That conversation we'd had that night had been our last. A part of me wanted her to find the bit of herself that loved me, and forgive me for what I'd done.

Maybe she would have, had I asked. But I didn't—knowing somehow that it would have been wrong to.

But, right or wrong, I couldn't understand her pain—I'd been too young to remember thoroughly the death of Iole, and the thought of losing either Crabbe or Goyle wasn't too bad. I highly doubted I would spend too many hours mourning _their_ empty little souls. Lives were expendable. End of story. I could never love with the depth and feeling that she could.

It was beyond me, and I knew it.

I took the N.E.W.T.S (with remarkable results, might I add), had my commencement exercises without a hitch, and took over the family business of doing nothing. Malfoy's didn't work for money—people gave it to us because we were Malfoys.

All right, maybe they didn't just _give _it for no reason—usually thousand year-old interest payments, black market deals, and the like.

I was hardly what you would call busy. I spent the majority of my time roaming the manor, thinking idly about the world's unexplained mysteries.

The strange allure of red hair, for one.

And the captivating magnetism of green eyes; how _rare_ they were.

And freckles!

Right.

Bloody bugger—I couldn't get her out of my mind. I'd seriously considered stalking her and making it my profession. Thank Severus, for sending me owls laced lightly with bits of news about her, or else I would have gone spare with desperation. Only hints--nothing too direct, of course, lest he provoke my unusually quiescent anger.

_'Had a run-in with Potter, arrogant little _words were crossed out repeatedly here_ idiot. Evans, prefect that she is, was surprisingly impartial for a Gryffindor and gave him detention for use of curses in the hallway.'_

I'd smiled (well as a rule, I didn't really _smile _anymore, but you know what I mean)—it was good to know their enmity hadn't changed.

Meanwhile, my Lord had started gathering more followers. There were many Death Eaters, and we'd gained such popularity (or unpopularity) that parents had been known to use us to scare their children.

_'If you don't keep the Wizarding Wireless down the Death Eaters are going to come and get you'_

For some reason, we'd been mentioned in the Daily Prophet articles as the Knights of Walpurgis, and many of us had taken to that name. However, officially (if there was anything official about a roomful of pureblooded men, guzzling firewhisky and arguing about the best way to quarter someone—unicorns, horses, or thestrals?), we were still the Death Eaters.

Lord Voldemort had not mentioned anything about Garednon's death. I had a feeling he'd been planning the Menandrus as well—though why he would kill one of his most devoted followers, I would never know. The knowledge of the master's volatility kept me wary, although I knew well enough not to show it.

With everything as it was, I became Lord Voldemort's new right-hand man. After all, it was only I, among the rest, who had the most connections (and curses). I'd convinced Severus to join us—and, with him, a few other promising Slytherins as well—Bellatrix Black, Crabbe and Goyle (need you ask? They trailed after me even _after_ we'd left Hogwarts—I doubted they had anything better to do), Peter (_again_, Parkinson, not Pettigrew; don't get ahead of yourselves), and a rather eager fellow, Jugson.

As I know you all would rather have an hour-long round of the crucio than hear what I have to say about the rest of my first year out of Hogwarts, let me take this opportunity to jump to two years after that. When everything began to change.

Lily had, by this time, graduated. Yes, she still haunted my thoughts. And, what haunted me even more was that she'd gone and gotten herself married. To who else, but, surprise, surprise, _Potter_. Right out of school. They'd graduated, gone off somewhere and flat out _eloped_.

Well. Of course that bothered me. To no end. _Potter?_She'd had good taste when she'd dated _me_, but why the sudden jump from handsome pureblood to pureblood git?

Then again, when I think about it, I really _did_ have no right to be angry at her. I was engaged myself, to Narcissa Black. Don't blame me—it was out of pure boredom. With a bit of lust mixed in there, probably.

Ahem.

_Anyway_. . .

Time moved on, and nothing was different—except the news of attacks. They'd become more and more frequent. At first, the ministry had tried to cover everything up—those fools really hated to admit that such 'barbaric prejudice' still existed in our very 'modern society'. Those quotes were direct from the minister himself, by the way. You see, the ministry was afraid—knee-trembling, relieve-yourself-in-your-knickers afraid.

'We can't _possibly_ have another Grindelwald on our hands, Albus,' the minister had bawled to Dumbledore. Yes, we'd heard them talk—we had more spies than anyone knew possible. What the old man replied was unheard, unfortunately. Seems Dumbledore had known about spies and cloaked the rest of the conversation.

You would think everything was getting swimmingly along with me. Well, it was. Until, of course, in the middle of cleaning out my trunk (actually, I was lazing around on my bed while the elves did the work), I remembered a certain secret compartment I'd had in there. With a certain, secret spy-on-Lily device.

Now you must understand—I hadn't seen her in years. Not even a glimpse of her in Diagon Alley. _Or_ Hogsmeade. And let me tell you, I'd spent some time looking. Well. Moving on. . .

I looked at the old clock that hung on my wall—ten in the evening. Right. If Potter and she were doing something. . . er. . . _explicit_, I would stop the spell. Hopefully they weren't. Hopefully she was alone and pining for me. Not bloody likely, but there was always the possibility. I made my decision.

"OUT!" I roared, and, after a nanosecond of stunned silences, the house-elves complied and ran for their pathetic lives.

Good.

Nice to know they obeyed orders.

I ran my hands deftly over the inside of the trunk, like I'd done so many years past. Yes, the compartment was still there—as was the Murtazzo. The device. This time around, I didn't stare in amazement at the light emanating from the disc once I'd said the magic words—I stared in amazement at Lily.

She was sitting on steps, I assumed (as only Lily was shown). But the biggest surprise was—well—she was—urgh—pregnant (either that or extremely fat stomach-wise, but I could tell the difference). With _Potter's_ child. I wonder what it felt like to have something as hideous as Potter's spawn growing inside you, and I shuddered. I wasn't meant to carry babies (_obviously_, as I don't have the right—_equipment_, physical _or_ mental).

At the time, of course, I'd already gotten married to Narcissa. And gotten her pregnant as well. Of course, compared to Lily, who seemed to be in full bloom, rosy cheeks and all, Narcissa seemed to do nothing but throw up. I tolerated it since she _was_ carrying, after all, the new Malfoy heir. Although how much bolus the new Malfoy heir seemed to be forcing out of his mother's stomach, I didn't really want to know.

I sat up straighter on my bed to get a closer look at Lily. A look of pleased contentedness came over her face, and, closing her eyes, she craned her neck a little to the right—as if someone was behind her, rubbing her cheek. My temper flared, even as I told myself I had no right to be jealous.

"If you're trying to win over the argument, it's useless, you know." She laughed, and for a moment, I could do nothing but stare at her. Her smile brought back so many memories. "There is absolutely _no_ way you are going to name this child Harrieta." More laughs. "How did you _ever_ convince me to let you name this one?" A pause, then an embarrassed giggle. She turned bright red. "Oh—right."

I stopped the spell, and covered my face with my hands, shaking my head.

She'd seemed so _happy_.

I'd never brought anything to her but tears. Maybe Potter _was_ right for her—he'd made her smile—and laugh—more often that I had.

She deserved to be happy.

Something I could never do for her.

As if to remind me of my place, heat blossomed on my forearm. Immediately, I touched a Portkey, and, in the swirling black abyss, I realized something.

Only _I_ could protect her from the wrath of Lord Voldemort. Potter could, but that was only to a certain extent. She would need _my_ help--_my _protection. And I would give it to her.

Little did I know that the promise I'd made then could and _would_ get horribly, irrevocably broken.

**Author's Notes: **

Thank you to:

Briana Marie—for the Nth time, the first person to review after I put up a chapter! Thank you! I'm glad the emotions got through there. I was listening to these sad songs when I was writing, and I couldn't help but tear up and all. sniff And yes, Uncle Mordum is just called 'uncle' for the sake of it—in no way related to Lucius (although you never know—pureblood families are supposed to be all mixed up. Eew.)

Tiamat—a new reviewer! Thanks for the review—it really kept me on my toes (very Slytherin)! Thankfully the story met all the requirements—I don't think you were too haughty when you said things about correct grammar—I know what you mean! Some stories have great plots, but then you think 'oh, if only they'd written it properly'. : p Hope you liked this chapter.

Claire—thank you for the short but sweet review!

Addy—you're back! sigh I know that chapter was sad. So, so sad. But it's Lucius. A typically sad, sad Lucius. : (


	49. May, 1980

**Chapter 49**

Narcissa and I had what I considered an almost perfect marriage. Almost perfect because I _still_ saw her on the weekends, as opposed to my fervent wish of not seeing her at all. The woman was eight months pregnant, and, instead of resting like a normal, pregnant woman would do, she devoted every ounce of spare time she had to sending me _owls. _Owls, I tell you.

Letters were a luxury I could not afford then (time-wise, obviously, as I happen have the largest account there is in Gringotts). Why, you ask?

The Dark Lord was becoming frantic.

Apparently, a month or two ago, one of our number had overheard a certain prophecy describing Lord Voldemort's downfall at the pudgy little hands of an infant, no less. Or, if we opted for the less embarrassing choice, at the hands of a full-grown man, almost half a century younger than him. Whatever the choice, facts remained facts: He would meet his end at the hands of the infant born at end of the seventh month. Lord Voldemort believed it.

You want to know what _I_ thought?

I thought the prophecy was (excuse the language) _bull_.

You have to understand, back _then_, Dark Lords did not go about getting Avada rebounded on themselves. _Then_, Dark Lords weren't rendered half-dead by helpless babies who'd yet to live through their first year.

But I'm getting a little ahead of myself (again).

Now, where was I.

Oh, right.

So the Dark Lord was searching, _searching_ for this little imp, to squash him (I could say 'her', but we all know how the brat turned out anyway) while he could. For once, however, I couldn't find it in myself to fully trust the Dark Lord's paranoia. Weren't we, Death Eaters, all for the common goal of eradicating the world of dirty blood? Then why on _earth_ were we wasting precious propaganda time (translation: muggle torturing time) hunting down an unborn child?

Because of a little something called _power._

I understood all too well about power. Lord Voldemort wanted it so badly he could taste it, and not only that, but I think he could have swallowed it whole.

And I think he _did_ try to swallow it whole. And then he choked on it.

Not good. Not good at all.

But that was later.

Now, _now_, we are in the May of 1980.

May, 1980.

Voldemort searches for strange infant with possible super-wizard powers.

Lucius Malfoy decides to—

To what??

Do you want to know what _I_ was doing?

The world was turning, time was ticking, people were dying and I? What was _I_ doing?

All right.

I'd decided to lay low a bit. Why?

You know me well enough to understand that a Malfoy never does anything with reason. And my 'laying low' had several reasons.

First and foremost was, of course, _me._ And let's not forget my wife and my then-unborn-to-be-named-Draco _son_. At that time, our reputation was at stake.

The ministry was up my arse, demanding searches inside the mansion, sending Aurors to _watch_ me, and, most infuriatingly, coming up with _witnesses_ claiming I'd done this or that bit of dark magic.

Lies, all of them.

Yes, I was a Death Eater.

And that meant, _yes_, I was a sometimes, more-often-than-not muggle murderer.

But _no_, I did _not_ leave witnesses lying around, ready to 'expose the horrible Malfoy secret'(and I'm quoting off the Daily Prophet here) to the public. I was thorough in doing what I did.

I was _good _at what I did.

Very good.

Reason number two. To my dismay, everything, _everything_ was going back to that woman I had allowed to come into my well-planned life, and turn it upside down. You know who it is. A thousand galleon bet says you say Lily. Because that would be the right answer, and I pride myself in having rather smart readers who can tell a foreshadowing when they see one.

So what _was_ it about Lily?

I'd done some research on my own (in fact I'd been doing it since I'd left Hogwarts) and I knew everything there was to know about her. My little trip-down-memory-lane with the Murtazzo had only confirmed it: She was pregnant.

Additional research, and it _more_-than-proved the fact that she was pregnant. It told me _when_ (I _try_ not to think about her with Potter, I really do because it's just _disgusting_. _Potter?_ _POTTER?_ I couldn't understand her) the possible date of conception was, and _that_ in turn told me she was, at that moment, exactly seven months pregnant.

That moment was May 31, 1980.

Two more months.

July 31, 1980.

The end of the seventh month.

And that, _that _was the instant I changed my mind about the prophecy.

You could pretend you didn't know the future and say that pregnancies, and deliveries, are never exactly 'on time'.

But muggle-blood or not, she was a witch. And witches are always on time. Lord Voldemort would look for her. He would find her child, and kill it.

I knew.

There might have been another wizarding couple expecting a child at the end of July.

But they were purebloods. Voldemort didn't like killing purebloods—at least, he didn't then.

And here, here was Lily, the mudblood, the woman I could have—and, in his eyes—_should have_—killed all those years past.

Now you think about it.

Potter, the politically delusioned pureblood, and Lily, the mudblood. A perfect union—perfect enough to spawn the Dark Lord worst enemy: His downfall.

I knew it.

And so did Lord Voldemort.

* * *

A/N: 

Sorry!!! Sorry! I've been SOO unbelievably busy. Seriously. In fact, I didn't really have time to _really_ edit this chapter, so if it's a bit rough around the edges, sorry :p

I haven't forgotten about Lucius, of course, but. . . you know how it is.

I'd gotten to that part when I wasn't sure which direction to head—it's like, which foot do I use to make the last sprint? Something like that.

I'd like to thank ALL of you who replied last time, a long, long time ago, and, especially I'd like to thank **The Redheaded Duck,** for reminding me all about Lucius, and for inspiring me to write again!!! So, this Chap's dedicated to her (or him? I'm sorry I just naturally assume Lucius-lovers are all 'her's).

So please, read and review! One more chapter to go!!!! Enough reviews and I might be encouraged to post a bit faster :p

underscore


	50. The Ending

**Chapter 50**

I think, in the end, he loved her more. But that doesn't mean I loved her any less.

Like many things, it was too late for us. I'd made mistakes, and I'd never tried to fix them. I knew—deep down, somewhere, I knew what was going to happen. That day was darker than most, and the rain fell like never ending needles of ice, biting into my skin. Even the wind seemed to howl in protest.

Like many things, it was too late. I arrived at Godric's Hollow just in time to see her die. Her soul left her body with a gasp—her beautiful green eyes looked almost surprised. They dulled in an instant.

My Lord vanished, of course—even his body had disappeared. Lily's body was still there. And beside her—a gurgling imp, completely unaware of his mother's sacrifice. It was all I could do not to throw it out the window. This may sound. . . insensitive, I know, and rude, but anyway, I let it be because it was Lily's.

I was a different man then, as I am a different man now.

The tragedy in love is in the beginning, not in the end. You are still alive enough to feel, in the beginning, the way a man is still alive to cry out when his throat is sliced. The pain is in the beginning. In the end, you are too dead to care for very much.

That's the way it was for me then. I wanted to feel something, when she died. I waited for my heart to crumble, I waited my soul to wither.

It didn't happen, because by then, my heart had already crumbled, and my soul had already withered. I hadn't even noticed.

It was a common enough joke among us Death Eaters, that the radiation from the Avada Kedavra stopped us from feeling anything long afterwards. We often said it for laughs, but deep down, we all felt it.

Killing a human being for the first time is like making love for the first time. It loses its novelty, and soon enough, it becomes just like any other act.

Lily's death was my funeral. I'd died long ago when we'd parted—I was just a wraith existing in the shell of my body. And so it was that the old Lucius was sent to rest between the man he hated and the woman he loved, just as he had in reality.

She died and a part of me did too. It was just a small part, but then it was also the biggest part of all.

The peculiarity of it all was… when that part of me died, _I_ was still alive.

Do you understand? It was as if I'd lost an arm, but nothing else had changed.

I still remember it, and all the events of the past, but it's as if I wasn't myself, when it happened. I see it almost as someone else's memory, someone else's dream.

It's the way you feel when you look back at those photographs of childhood, and you see the little wizard you were on your toy broom, and you cannot possibly believe you were that little, or that good-natured.

Some days, I miss that bit of me that went with her. And on some days, I'm glad it's gone. To look at the world the way she did—it was to look at the world with the innocence of a child. Everything was new. Magic was ancient and thrilling, with a smatter of secrets dusted on it for good measure. Seeing the world like that was good for some people, but for people like me it was dangerous.

I was a Malfoy first, a pureblood second, and a Death Eater last. These three names were branded into me. The first two, I hadn't chosen. And the last one, I had.

Circumstances trap you. They narrow the road down until you suffocate and need a raft to stay afloat.

Lily kept me alive, but I pushed her away.

Because a Malfoy should rely on himself.

A pureblood should stay away from mudbloods.

And a Death Eater should destroy them.

Now you understand me, when I tell you, I haven't always been the cruel beast people see me as today. Not really.

Now you understand me, when I tell you, what it is to see through the eyes of a Malfoy.

**_-The End-_**

****

**_A/N: _**Chapter 49 was not the end, although it's probably my fault you all thought so. Many, many apologies for such a later chapterI think you've all forgotten about the story already, and are probably shocked another chapter's come up! But this is the end. I was blocked, but today, when I sat down to write, I wrote. And I couldn't stop. And that was it. Hope you guys like it! (This is the first story I've finished in a really long timelike, in 9 years. Yes, I haven't finished a real story since I was eight and writing for class). Please, please, PLEASE review. And since summer's left a void for me, I've started writing stuff, but don't know what to write about! So, any suggestions would be welcome.


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